SCP Squad: Origins
by Amari412
Summary: Carson O'Reilly lost her father under mysterious circumstances. Now, she works for the SCP Foundation as a psychologist for the more "human" SCPs. When a certain SCP is brought to the site where she works, he begins to bring up memories long since past. How does he know her? What was the project that got Dr. O'Reilly killed? All that Carson knows is about to change.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

I sat in my office with my father's notebooks on my desk. It felt like any other day, slow and seeming to drag on forever. I didn't have any clients left for the rest of the day and I found myself wondering: How in the world could dad have stood working here? I mean, the work was good and the pay was even better, but man the days were long. I felt exhausted, even though my day mostly consisted of talking to creatures of anomalous effect and a few D-Class while taking notes.

I found myself unable to concentrate on my father's words and simply closed the old notebook. I put my elbows on my desk, rubbing my throbbing temples. I took a moment to look over at the clock which said six thirty PM.

"Just an hour left" I thought, "Yeah, an hour and nothing left to do".

I sighed partly from frustration. As I looked down at the closed notebooks, I felt something on my back. It was slow moving, sending tingles right down my spine. Confused, I looked around and saw what appeared to be a trail of orange slime going from my doorway to my chair. I smiled and before I knew it, the orange blob was perched on my shoulder. I looked only to see the blob's two dark round eyes look up at me. It smiled with a toothless grin and greeted me.

"Hello!" It said in its usual cheery, bubbly voice.  
"Why hello there, Jiminy" I pet him and he let out a happy trill.

This was SCP-999, AKA Jiminy, and yes, we definitely got the nickname where you think we got it. See, my dad used to show 999 old Disney movies and he adored Pinocchio, the character Jiminy Cricket in particular. So dad started calling 999 Jiminy and the name just stuck. My father hated calling the more sentient SCPs by their numbers. So, even if it technically was against Foundation's protocol, he gave them names.

_To give a being a name, _he once wrote, _Is to acknowledge and give value to its existence. _

I took this saying to heart. I knew my father had loved the SCPs he worked with and I knew I had to carry on that same love to the ones I took care of, most of which got to work with him in the past. Even if some of them didn't care for me, I at least showed them the decency they deserved. This was especially true with Jiminy, who probably missed dad as much as I did.

"How are you?"Jiminy asked.  
"I'm alright" I answered, "Just waiting to get off and head home".  
"Awww".Jiminy's smile dropped, "I'll miss you"**.  
**"I'll be back tomorrow little guy".  
"I know but still…"**  
**"It'll be okay. Hey actually, maybe you can help me tomorrow".  
"Oh yay! How can I help?!"  
"Well I'm supposed to have a session with Draco tomorrow. And seeing as how you're the only one who can make him happy-"  
"YES!" Jiminy squealed happily, "I play with six eight two again! YAY!"**  
**"I knew that'd brighten your evening. Now" I scooped Jiminy up into my hands, "We need to get you back to your pen".  
"Awww…okay".

He yawned and seemed to snuggle into my hands. I smiled and continued on to place him back in his very colorful pen. Of all the containment cells in the site I worked, Jiminy's was without a doubt the most colorful. The little guy could never decide on a favorite color so each of the walls of his pen were multicolored. Scattered on the floor were multiple toys, games, and game pieces. Posted on the walls were many colorful scribble drawings he made. On a nearby table was a set of crayons, markers, and colored pencils with paper and what appeared to be a bowl of glitter. Hm…at least he was using new stuff, even if it was a tad messy. I set him down on the post which now served as a tiny bed for him.

"Good night Jiminy. Sweet dreams" I told him and left his containment pen, locking it behind me.

I made my way back to my office without much incident. All I knew was I needed to get home, eat, and get some sleep. I'd need it for the day that awaited.

Of course, I didn't leave right in that moment. I went back to my office and grabbed my father's journals. He had so many and now that I could understand all that he was writing about I wanted to read them all. Dad had been so fascinating, and he had helped so many of the SCPs live a better life despite their containment. I wanted to do what he did and much more.

My name is Carson O'Reilly. Like my father before, I'm a psychologist working for the SCP foundation. My job: Basically to help the more sentient anomalous creatures feel a little more human. If they need any kind of emotional, mental, or, on a rare occasion, physical help, I provide it. A lot of the more higher class doctors and analysts look down on what I do as they believe it's useless. I beg to differ.

I lost my father when I was eight. Our home had been invaded by a rival organization, or so I was told. Oddly enough, I don't remember my mother, so I've always assumed she died when I was really young. Anyway, back to the trauma.

The reason for the rival's attack on my father have been obscure. The most popular theory was that dad had been working on some kind of project and our rivals have always been looking for a way to ahead of us. When I asked about my father's project, it was classified. Whatever it was, it's still classified today. Maybe someday I hoped someone would tell me.

When I got home, I decided to try to read more of the journals. It was like I was reading a part of a hidden history, and in a way it was. Only others of my trade in the Foundation would know of my father's brilliance.

But what I didn't know was that his brilliance, an SCP, and a project from many years ago would make me question everything I knew about the Foundation.

And who I am.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

The next morning, I made my way to the containment cell of my first client of the day. He didn't seem like much, just a concrete statue with an oddly painted green and red face with tints of black. His head seemed to be too big, too round for his body. His stubby, concrete arms pressed against the right wall of the cell, with him facing it. The cell had been cleaned very recently, possibly the day before, as it was whenever I would come to see him. The door of the cell closed behind me as I pulled up a stool in a nearby corner. I sat down with my clipboard and notes in my lap and, like magic, my client woke.

He was one of the SCPs my father got to work with. Item number SCP-173, or, as my father called him, Jim. No relation to Jiminy rest assured, as you'll see in a minute. Jim scraped himself away from the wall in an almost mechanical fashion. When he was in my direction, his large black eyes fell on me. He flashed me a pointy toothed, playfully arrogant grin.

"**Hello there, sweet thing" **he said in his usual flirtatious manner.

Okay, I know what you're thinking. If he's concrete, how can he do all this? Well, in one of my father's journals, he proposed a theory about 173, whom he hadn't named at that point. He figured out that yes, the sculpture was indeed sentient, but trapped in the world of his own mind with no chance of getting out. This of course led to frustration and in turn led to aggression. So he came up with a solution: To give 173 a voice and to give him a mouth. They originally tried to give him a supposedly telepathic "voice box" but that didn't always get his thoughts right. This only led to further aggression and eventually Jim went…"crunch" on the damn thing. Dad realized this wasn't enough. Jim needed more than just a voice box. It took him over a year, but finally he got the approval to give SCP-173 a mouth and he knew it was worth it. I can only imagine the shock of the doctors when they carved into his face, only to discover that there was a mouth already just barely under the concrete, rowed with razor sharp teeth. And surprisingly, they were in good condition and all where they needed to be. This in turn woke Jim's other abilities, like freedom of movement. So not only could Jim talk, he could move even when others weren't looking. It was safe now to blink around him, unless he didn't like you. In that case you were royally screwed.

I raised an eyebrow. "Hello desperate thing".  
**"Hey, can't blame a guy for trying".  
**I laughed a little. "So how's life been since my last visit?"

I visited Jim every two weeks, usually shortly after his containment cell was cleaned. I assumed it was because he didn't want me to see when his cell was a mess. For an SCP, he actually did care a lot about hygiene and keeping his space clean and beautiful. I was sure if he could clean the place himself he would. Or maybe he was making sure it was done to impress me. Either way, I respected him for it.

"**Life's good. Kinda boring though. Still waiting on those books".**  
I've got some books at home I don't read" I told him, "I'll let you borrow some when we have our next session".  
**"Awesome. It's like jeez, what do I gotta do to get some mental simulation around here?"**  
"Sorry Jim".  
**"Not a problem, beautiful. You just keep doing what you do best: Standing there and looking pretty".**

Despite his flirtations, I know Jim meant well. In fact it was his flirtatious nature that got him his nickname. Dad was a big Star Trek fan apparently, and 173 with his flirtatious manner and larger than life ego, with a dash of overconfidence made him think of none other than James Tiberius Kirk. So, for all points and purposes, SCP 173 was Jim Kirk incarnate…if he was a sculpture anyway.

"What else has been on your mind?" I asked.  
**"Hm…depends, do you count?"**  
"Really, Jim?"  
**"Alright, alright I'll keep it professional. Don't get your undergarments in a wad". **  
"Thank you".  
**"Anything for you, sweet thing".**  
"So answer the question".  
**"Well to be honest, not much. I mean I really think they've done all the testing they can possibly do. There's no point in keeping me here".  
"It's for everyone's benefit, Jim. Not just theirs and not just yours".  
"Really Carson? 'Cause it sure doesn't feel like it. I mean, I don't do anything here. Just scrape around on the walls and floor. Maybe break a neck or two, but that's it. It's not a very…ugh…what's the word I'm looking for? Fulfilling existence, I guess".**  
"You want more".  
**"Exactly. I mean, I know I shouldn't, but I feel useless like this. I just feel like I could do more, be better, but they won't let me".**  
"I'm so sorry, Jim. What do you think we can do about that?".  
He paused for a moment as if to think. **"Well, I may be a Euclid class, but that doesn't mean I can't be useful too. I want, dare I say it, a job".**  
I about dropped my clipboard. "A job? You want a job?".  
**"Well, why not? I'm sure I can do loads of jobs. Like, maybe I could be extra security or something". **

I would've laughed but I knew Jim was being entirely serious. But it made sense. He wanted mental simulation and meant a purpose. A job could be what Jim needed. I smiled at the thought of him in a security uniform. Maybe he'd make a good mall cop. I chuckled at the idea.

"**What? I'm being serious".**  
"I know. Hm…I'd have to take it up with my superiors. But I definitely do think it'd help you, and possibly the foundation".  
**"YES!"** if he could've jumped he would've, **"Thanks beautiful, I owe you one!"  
**"It's all part of the job".  
**"So, who else you gotta put on the couch today?"**  
"Draco".  
**"Oh, the overgrown lizard with secret mother issues. Don't get why you try, Carson. He's a lost cause".**  
"It's my job, Jim. Dad didn't give up and neither can I".  
**"See, that's the difference between you and your dad. You always want to walk the path expected of you. At least Derrick did things his own way and didn't give two craps about what people thought".**

I rolled my eyes. I loved my dad, but at times like this, it made being his daughter a real pain in the ass. Jim noticed my displeasure at his comment.

"**Hate to say it, but you know I love you. I just wish you did things as you wanted to rather than concerning yourself with other's wants and needs. Don't make your dad's mistakes. Make your own".**  
"Dad never gave up on a client. Many people wanted me to leave you be. But I couldn't just abandon you. I wouldn't be able to look at myself anymore if I gave up on you or anyone else I work with. I mean, I know I can't help every one of you guys, but I'll be damned if I don't even at least try".  
**"That's sweet of you, Carson. But there's a world of difference between me and that giant lizard. First off, I'm definitely better looking. Second, it's near impossible for me to get angry at you. Irritated at times, perhaps, but not angry. Though it is funny to see you angry. But I digress. I'll be honest, I'd rather have my limbs all taken off than hurt you". **

Jim only called me by my name if he was being dead serious. By his tone and sturdier posture, I knew he wasn't lying. That was probably the best thing about Jim, he never had a reason to lie to anyone and if you needed something told truthfully or needed an opinion, he was the go to guy…sculpture…guy…I don't know.

"Don't worry" I told him, "I know you'd never hurt me".  
**"Yeah, but what if I go off the deep end one day and kill everyone here?"**  
"You've been off the deep end before. Now look where you are".  
**"Yeah well, I could go back to that at any time. You never could know…I do like to keep people guessing".**

I put my clipboard down and took one of his stubby, concrete arms in my hands.

"I don't care what anyone says, Jim. You are not a monster. You're more than my patient, more than a client, you're my friend. I trust you and you should trust yourself a lot more than you do".  
**"Carson…eh, thanks. That means a lot coming from you, beautiful. Man, I envy the guy who gets to date you. Hell, marry you even".**  
I laughed. "You don't need to worry about that. I don't plan on marrying anytime soon".

I could never see myself as married or even having kids. In my line of work, anything could happen. I could die at any point. I wouldn't put anyone I cared about through the hell I went through. I lost my dad when I least expected it and I wasn't going to leave a child in the same position I was in.

"**Well, I won't keep you from your session with Draco. But uh…word from the wise. You might wanna check up on Banshee before you go…"**

Item number SCP-096, AKA Banshee slash the Shy Guy was one of my more dangerous clients. Granted, no amount of therapy actually could help him, but I hated the fact that he was kept all alone. They said it was for the better but I disagreed. I thought of giving him a therapy animal, if only to ease the possible sting of loneliness he felt. I was told it was out of the question, as they feared that Banshee would tear the poor animal to shreds. Still, Jim's warning had me curious.

"What happened?" I asked.  
**"I think I heard someone go into his chamber last night while he was sleeping. I didn't actually see anything, but I definitely heard footsteps".**

This was highly unusual, as it was strictly forbidden for anyone to enter Banshee's cell without proper authority approval, and certain safety precautions also have to be taken. Who in their right mind would go in there unless they had a death wish? Banshee didn't like being looked at, not even for medical purposes. And of course, he'd kill anyone who dared to look at him. I stood up from my seat.

"Thank you, Jim. See you in two weeks".  
**"Heh…I'll be looking forward to it, gorgeous. Just uh…well…be careful. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you".**  
"Aww, that's sweet of you Jim".  
**"Eh, don't expect me to get all sappy on you now. Now go check on-"**

He was cut off by a bloodcurdling scream not too far down the hall. Jim and I looked at each other, equally concerned.

"Banshee! He's in trouble!"  
**"Go! Now! Get outta here!"**

Jim didn't have to tell me twice…

_Author's note: Yay first AN of this story! Hope you guys like this so far, as I'm working pretty hard on it. I haven't written a story in first person in years I think. I may consider doing chapters from other character's POV but I don't know. I'm probably getting the SCPs all wrong as far as character goes as well, as I'm actually really new to the fandom. I do know a bit of stuff, but this is completely AU so yeah. As always please leave a review I greatly appreciate it and don't forget to be awesome. _


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"O'Reilly to med bay! I repeat, O'Reilly to med bay! I need a response immediately!" I yelled into the walkie talkie that was set on the monitors that looked out over Banshee's cell.  
_"Med Bay to O'Reilly, what's the emergency?"  
_"I need a med team down to SCP zero-nine-six's cell! Somebody, I don't know who, has put a long mirror on one of the walls of its cell!"  
_"What exactly is the emergency, O'Reilly?"  
_"Zero nine six has seen its own reflection! It's on the ground, shrieking and scratching at itself!"  
_"Stand by, a med team will be there shortly". _

To say Banshee's cell was a mess was the understatement of the century. In the faint light, there was an inky black substance, I assumed to be blood, all over the floor and some on the walls. Bits of torn, pale flesh were strewn across the room. And there, looking more pitiful than intimidating, was Banshee.

The best way I can describe Banshee is basically like this: If the Rake and Slenderman got married and had a baby, Banshee would probably be what the baby would look like as an adult. He was mostly pale gray in color, though had no pigmentation in his skin or eyes. His arms and legs were grossly out of proportion with his body, which was incredibly thin and malnourished. From a distance, he looked like an overgrown spider. He appeared to be blind, but now we knew better. Granted we also knew his sight wasn't the best, and he relied more on echolocation than any other sense, surprisingly. My father never formally got to work with him. He only lived long enough to give him a nickname and jot down a few behavioral notes, but that was it. He was killed before any other attempts at a personal session were made. Perhaps, most thought, it was for the better.

But then I found something else that about made my blood freeze in my veins. Looking over at the motion sensor cameras, I saw Banshee wasn't exactly alone. Some of the inky black substance I thought was blood actually wasn't. And then I heard it…

It was a somewhat metallic sound, like the beating of a dark heart. I watched from the control room in horror as the black inky substance formed into the shape of a man, elderly but appearing to be decomposing. The smell of rotten flesh hit me even through the metal door. I almost threw up as I forced myself to look away from the camera.

SCP Item number 106, the Old Man, or, as my dad and a lot of other researchers and agents called him, for some reason, Radical Larry had somehow broken containment and was now here in Banshee's cell. This thing had been my nightmare fuel since childhood. He had a knack for dragging people into his pocket dimension, usually when they were hurt and easy prey. I faintly remember hearing the screams of a victim at a demonstration after my father died. The Foundation wanted me to understand completely that not all SCPs were human creatures and that not all could or wanted to be helped. It saddened me at first, but after watching that D-Class be taken to that unknown dimension and then spat back out as a horrid corpse some time later I understood what couldn't be done. So no, I never worked with "Radical Larry" and I never wanted to.

But I knew I couldn't leave Banshee in alone with him, not like this when he wouldn't be able to stand a chance should Larry decide to do anything. For me, there was no choice or chance. For patients, for my friends, I'd do anything to keep them safe. I had to get Larry away from Banshee somehow, even if it killed me.

And knowing my luck, it probably would.

I moved quickly from my hiding place, back to the steel door of his containment cell. I pounded on the door as loudly as I could, hoping to get Larry's attention. When I looked at the camera, Larry was looming over Banshee. I cursed and ran back to the door, beating it even harder despite the pain in my hands. I started screaming.

"Larry! Larry, you sick tar covered bastard!" I screamed between hits on the door.

The old man then turned to the camera, almost as if he knew I was the one beating on the door. He gave me a malicious grin, but I didn't dare falter in my hits. I was terrified, truth be told, but I needed to save Banshee at all costs.

"Come and get me, you son of a bitch" I dared him.

His grin widened and suddenly the door behind me corroded black. I moved away before any of it could get on me, but the door was almost completely destroyed. Larry made his way through, grinning at me the entire time as he did. I backed away until I hit the wall opposite of him. Larry didn't quicken his pace, he had no need to. He had me in a corner. I breathed hard and stared at the Keter class SCP wide eyed, but determined to save the life of my patient and friend. Larry didn't stop until he was right in front of me.

_**Hello child, do you remember me?**_ His voice was like a strained, dark whisper in my head.  
"Y…yes, I remember….how could I forget?"  
_**Hm…well you're not much of a child anymore…far from it, I see.**_ He sniffed. _**You smell awfully nice…it's been far too long.  
**_"Get the hell away from me!" I yelled boldly, picking up a nearby flashlight.

Based on what I read about this SCP, it hated light in all of its forms. If he got any closer, all I had to do was shine the light in his face and he'd back off, possibly going back to his dimension. He laughed darkly. I didn't like where this was going…

_**Such a brave one.**_ His grin didn't falter. _**But not too smart, I'm afraid.**_

I knew courage didn't mean intelligence. I didn't care how smart or not this was. I only wanted to save my friend. I put my finger on the button of the flash light, but didn't respond to his comment. Larry continued.

_**The last I saw you, you were so small, so fearful. It appears they've been hiding you from me. **_

His hand reached out for me and I pressed the button on the light. I cursed, as it was dead. Larry let out a loud, almost hyena like laugh and I tried to inch my face away. But his fingertips caught my left cheek and forced me to look at him. It stung, badly. It was like acid being poured into a single spot, burning a lot slower than what it should've been. I trembled, partly from fear, but mostly from pain.

_**How fun would it be to watch you rot…And take my time picking what's left off your bones. **_

He inched closer, his face right there in front of mine. It was horrible, the stench combined with his touch. I closed my eyes, certain this was it. But Larry simply laughed and pulled away from me.

_**Perhaps some other time. Maybe when you least expect it. It'd be much more fun that way. And besides…the best mind game just so happens to be no mind game at all.**_ He laughed maniacally and disappeared into his pocket dimension.

His laugh echoed in my head. I slid down the wall, holding my burning cheek and sobbing my eyes out. I dropped the flashlight and it immediately turned on. I didn't care, I just hoped the burning wouldn't spread to my whole face. I suddenly felt weak and light headed, drained of all energy. My vision blackened and I knew nothing else.

It was night when I came back to myself. I was in the infirmary, a pounding in my head.

"Carson!" I heard Jiminy's voice to my left and I turned my head, "She's okay! Doctor Clef, she's awake!"

Wait, why was Doctor Clef here? I turned the other way to see Alto Clef, one of the few researchers specializing on reality benders. Most didn't like him, and for fairly good reasons. Imagine being drugged at a seminar by muffins laced with some kind of hallucination inducing drug that made it seem like Clef himself was a reality bender. Hell it's been called into question many times among the therapists that worked in my site if he actually was a reality bender himself. I personally never had an issue with him, but I sure as hell would never take food from him.

From the outside he was a suspicious character enough. To me it appeared he had dark sandy colored hair and two different colored eyes. One was a bright green color and the other a bright blue. He was pale skinned, but not too much so that he looked dead. I remembered being terrified of him as a little kid, especially when he tried to offer me food after my father died.

"Doctor Clef…What are you doing here?" I asked.  
"Stay down" he instructed, "106 took a lot of you".  
"A lot of what exactly? I feel sick to my stomach and my head is hurting like crazy".  
"Well he drained energy out of the flashlight we found with you and he may have drained you of some of your energy. Something we've never actually seen him do before. It would appear though that our inter-dimensional traveling friend has found a new food source".  
"He feeds on energy now? Crap…"  
"More than likely it's not gonna be an everyday thing. Knowing him, he probably just did this to shock or even scare you".  
"Well, I'll tell you what, it worked".  
"At least he didn't take you to his pocket dimension".  
"Good point…"  
"He's getting stronger from it though…but never you mind that. Doctor Cool sent me after he heard about your little mishap".

I sighed and looked down. Dr. Cool was an O-5, meaning he was one of the top dogs in the Foundation. Since Cool more than likely knew everything about this, except my side of it of course, for the time being I was probably in huge trouble. Cool was like a second father to me. After my dad died, Dr. Cool made sure I wasn't put into the foster care system. He became my legal guardian and taught me everything he could teach me about the Foundation and my father's work. He was a hard man, but not unnecessarily cruel. It was expected when you worked here. His heart had become stone years ago. How he did it, how he was able to stand that, was still beyond me.

"Is he coming to hear my side of things?" I asked, petting Jiminy in my lap.  
"Well, partly. Otherwise, he's not coming alone. See, he also wanted me to relay a message to you".  
"What is it?"  
"You're about to have a new client".  
"A new patient…a new SCP is coming here?!"  
"Precisely, and it's one the good doctor says you'd be quite interested in".  
"Which one?"  
"The Plague Doctor".

I stopped petting Jiminy and my heart nearly leapt into my throat. I shook my head and gave Clef a half suspicious, half are you serious kind of look.

"049 is coming here?" Jiminy beat me to the question.  
"He sure is. Doctor Cool thinks you're ready for him, Carson. Do you understand what this means? He trusts you now".  
"But he shouldn't" I objected, "After what just happened! Clef, 106 could've killed me. Wait a minute, I almost forgot! Banshee, is he okay?!".

Clef gave me a hint of a smile. "Oh 096 is fine. He has some infections from the wounds he gave himself, probably from his exposure to 106. Specialists have put him on some antibiotic or so that has to be fed to him for a month. But besides that, he'll live".  
"And has 106 been re-contained?"  
"Thankfully yes, it took us a few hours but we got him back in".  
"Oh thank god. Do they know who put the mirror in Banshee's cell?"  
"Doctor Cool himself is looking into it. No one authorized this…experiment I guess, so I'm assuming he's going to make it a federal offense, possibly punishable by termination".  
"Yeah when he finds out, don't tell me who it is. I may just have to terminate them myself".  
"Oh now we can't have that".  
"So how long will it be before he gets here 049?"  
"It could take as much as a week. We're preparing a cell for him and everything".  
"Thank you, Doctor Clef. I appreciate it. Hey, but what about my session with Dra-682?"  
"Oh you can call them by your nicknames for them with me. As for your session, well, it'll have to rescheduled for at least another three days. Something Draco won't be too disappointed of, I assure you. But you need to rest, O'Reilly. You need it".  
"Thanks again Doctor Clef".  
"Oh think nothing of it. I'll take…Jiminy…back to his cell".  
"But…but I wants to stay" Jiminy's big black eyes watered.  
"Sorry little guy" I said, "You know the rules".  
"I can come see you tomorrow?"  
"I'll be looking forward to it".

_Author's note: I don't own Dr. Clef or Dr. Cool. Dr. Cool is Haunted Reader's persona on youtube and I think all the other sites and social media he's a part of. He may have a big part in this story if Haunted would get back to me about making him a full time character. The only character I'm gonna probably own in this story are Carson O'Reilly and her dad, Derrick and maybe some OCs you don't recognize. The nicknames of the SCPs I come up with mostly myself. Anyway, please leave a review and I'll see you guys next chapter. _


	4. Chapter 3

_Author's note: Hey guys fair warning, this chapter has some pretty foul language because yeah, it's 682, and he swears a lot and stuff. With that said, please enjoy and leave me a review._

**Chapter 3**

For the next three days, I was kept in the infirmary. Dr. Clef was nice enough to bring some more of my father's journals out of my office and I gladly skimmed through them, trying to find any info I possibly could on SCP-049. I did have his file with me, and while it was useful in some areas, I already knew most of the information on it. What had me was the fact that it was my father who the plague doctor spoke to first. Yes, the doctor in the profile was my dad. He hadn't done any kind of provocation, yet the SCP chose to speak to him first of all people. I found myself wondering why, fascinated by this SCP.

In his journals, dad appeared to be as surprised as I was about it. But he was far more optimistic. The date of the entry was blanked out but I could read the rest thankfully.

_My newest client finally felt the need to speak today. It was quite the interesting conversation. He seemed all calm, with no trace whatsoever of fear or anger. For most, this would be alarming. For me, it was rather revealing. It showed me that this SCP isn't afraid to take charge. If he wants to speak he will, on his time and in his own terms. Others have done this, yes, but always with an air of arrogance or cocky defiance. _

_But not this one. He's by no means arrogant, cocky, or defiant. There was just no trace of it in his voice or demeanor. But what I did find was just plain, simple, calm. There was an honesty in his tone that I couldn't help but find trustworthy. His eyes struck me as sure, confident in his so called "cure". There was calm, calm and certainty. I even dare to believe there was a degree of security in his voice and body language. He fears nothing, and, in simple terms, he's powerful. But only time will tell how he truly is. I have hope for this one, and I'll be keeping several notes during our sessions.  
-Derrick O'Reilly_

I found dad had invested a lot of time in 049, but oddly enough hadn't given him a nickname, unlike his other patients. I wondered why. He spent most of his time with this SCP, so why didn't he nickname him? It was plausible that he simply hadn't thought of one before he died, but this was years ago, when I was still a little girl. Couldn't he have thought of a name in that time? Dad had named all the SCPs he ever worked with; perhaps the plague doctor had an answer.

Jiminy came and saw me every day while I was recovering. He helped me take my mind off of a lot of things, mostly work related things. I cherished those moments, as it was almost like spending time with a little brother. We simply drew things and watched movies when I wasn't busy taking notes. And after three days I was finally allowed to go back to work. Jiminy couldn't have been more ecstatic.

"Hey there little man" I said as I placed him on my shoulder, "Are you ready for today?"  
"Are we gonna go see 682?!" his big black eyes lit up with excitement.  
"Yep, I still have his session to do".  
"Yay!" Jiminy cheered as I took a handful of skittles with us.

I laughed, as it never ceased to amaze me how much Jiminy loved Draco. Deep down, I liked to think Draco loved Jiminy too. It was getting Draco to admit that was a challenge.

Jiminy clung to me as I made my way down to Draco's containment chamber. Because of his colossal size, SCP-682, AKA Draco, had practically the entire basement area to himself. Personally I wasn't all for him being alone, but Draco seemed to have no problem entertaining himself. In fact, as Jiminy and I were coming in, Draco was already done with his breakfast, which consisted of a small group of D-Class.

"Good morning" I said somewhat cheerfully as I peered down at the overgrown reptile.

Looking at him now kind of reminded me more of a chimera like creature than anything else. For the most part, Draco did appear reptilian, but from the front he appeared to be somewhat furry. He reminded me of an oversized wolf, or even a dark over sized lion. The rest of him though was indeed scaled.

"**Ugh! The hell do you want?!" **he asked.  
"It's time for your session" I answered, "I brought some company".  
"Hi, 682!" Jiminy waved at him.  
**"Oh hell no! Get that damn snot wad away from me!"  
**"That's no way to treat a friend" I smirked.  
**"Friend?! Ha! Screw that!"  
**"Behave, Draco, and we'll get through this a lot quicker".  
**"Fine, you're here to put me on the couch" **Draco literally sat down, **"There, I'm on the couch…metaphorically speaking of course".  
**"Good" I sat down in my own chair and took out my notes, "Now I like to think we made some progress last-"  
**"What's wrong with your face?"  
**"What?"

This was unusual. Draco didn't usually care too much for others, but yet he was asking about my newly acquired scar. I wrote this observation down in my notes. It was the first time he'd shown any kind of care since I started working with him.

"**The scar. What's with it?" **he asked.  
"Just a bad run in with 106".  
**"That guy's an asshole".  
**"Huh…I would've thought you liked him. Somewhat anyway".  
**"Hell no! They once tried to pit us against each other, and the grease covered fag dragged me into his damn dimension".  
**"Wow, that must've been quite an experience".  
**"Damn right it was. Had a god damn headache for two weeks from that shit".  
**"Awww…poor 682" Jiminy commented behind me.  
**"Shut up! No one asked you".  
**"Draco, be nice".  
**"No damn way, nice stopped the second I hatched!" **

I chuckled a little at that, as it reminded me of a Bill Engvall joke.

"**What?"  
**"Nothing, just thinking. Now according to my notes here, you haven't broken containment in two months. That's almost a record".  
**"Yeah, whatever…"  
**"Well it's important" I started, "Because I was thinking of possibly sending in a request to the O-5 Council about possibly having you go visit Abby for a couple weeks at her site. That is, if you keep up the uh…the good behavior".

Abby was SCP item number 053, a little girl who, when seen for a short period of time, made the person want to kill her. If they're successful they die of heart failure shortly after, and Abby regenerates not having any knowledge of what happened. When confronted with Draco, it seemed to have a reverse effect. Instead of harming her, he seemed rather relaxed and, to some small extent, protective of her. They're relationship was interesting to say the least. It was part of the reason I didn't give up on Draco. I knew he was good, somewhere deep down. Way deep down.

He looked thoughtful for a moment. **"How is she?"  
**"She's doing good" I told him, "I heard she's taking special online classes and everything".  
**"And she's safe, happy?"  
**"She's all that and more. But she misses you".  
Draco seemed to scoff a little. **"She can get along just fine without me".  
**"Don't worry, 682. She's A-okay".  
**"Will you get the hell outta here?! Again, no one fuckin' asked you, fag!"  
**"Draco!" I stood from my chair, "Calm down or Jiminy will be on you before you can blink!"  
**"Yeah! If he can even move that fast!"  
**"Oooo, can we have a race?!" Jiminy asked.  
"Jiminy, don't encourage him" I said.  
"Awww…I wanted to race 682…maybe play some tag too".  
**"No one cares what the hell you want!"  
**"Carson does!"  
"Okay guys stop! Jeez, I feel like I'm babysitting except I'm not getting paid".  
"Sorry Carson".  
**"I'm not".  
**"Thanks Jiminy" I looked back over at Draco, "And I know you aren't".  
**"Rumor has it we're getting a newb"  
**"That's none of your concern".  
**"Is it a Keter?"  
**"It's SCP-049!" Jiminy exclaimed happily.  
**"Ugh…great…now I get to listen to him rant about that damn disease he claims is everywhere. I swear the damn guy's a germaphobe or something".  
**"Thanks Jiminy" I rolled my eyes.  
**"At least it's not another Keter". **

Draco was protective of his space. He thought it was bad enough he had to "share" the facility with Larry, and so another Keter would probably be a bad idea here. Thankfully the Plague Doctor was a Euclid. But I dared to ask the question.

"And if he was?"

I regretted the question the minute I asked. Draco snapped his jaws at me, dangerously close. His yellow eyes glittered with malice. He snarled.

"**I'd rip his damn throat out next time I break containment…just like I did your precious mentor". **

If ever I wanted to beat Draco, it was that moment. I was ten when that happened and I almost lost another father figure. During a confrontation when he was still in training, Dr. Cool had gotten too close to an angry Draco. He lashed out, slashing Dr. Cool in the throat. He was expected to die, but to everyone's amazement, especially mine, he survived. But not without cost. His voice box had sustained heavy damage, but thankfully the Foundation was able to make him a new, electronic one as well as a respirator which served as a life support system. I was scared of this change at first, but somehow I knew my savior was still in there. He was colder after that, but I never gave up on him. He never did on me, and I owed him so much. I found I honestly loved and respected him no less and still cared for me at least. It was more than enough for me.

I stood, feeling nothing but anger at Draco. It wasn't a good idea to keep up a session if you or the subject in question get emotionally distressed.

"This session's over. C'mon Jiminy".  
"Awww, why Carson?"  
**"'Cause she's pissed".  
**"Let's go, Jiminy" I couldn't stand his smug attitude at the moment.

Jiminy followed me out, a little disappointed. I didn't like feeling like this. I hate feeling bad for something that wasn't my fault. It's a problem I've always had, and it's gotten me in trouble multiple times. I'm not sure how I feel about reincarnation but I've always felt that in a previous life I was an empath of some kind. I've always felt stronger about certain subjects than most people would think. A lot of the time, it felt like I was an emotional sponge, feeling things for people when they should be feeling that way themselves. Like say for example, something should make someone angry or upset, but they don't feel that way. If I'm in the room with that person, and I hear or witness it in any other way, I feel that anger or sadness for them. I used to listen in on arguments just to make sure no one got hurt, physically or emotionally. Dr. Cool himself quickly broke me out of that, which actually even for him was a challenge. I wasn't a difficult child, really, but the few times I actually was difficult, it was HARD. It was even worse because both of had a tendency to be bullheaded.

I considered that man my savior for many reasons. I met him the night my father was killed, and I'll admit I was terrified of him. Even before he had the respirator, he was imposing as all hell. He reminded me of a wolf, and not one of those fairy tale big bad wolves. He looked fierce sure, but he didn't kill for pleasure. This wolf only killed to survive. He found in the closet of my room, hiding behind a bunch of old coats and bags of summer clothes. I remember it was dark, raining, and cold.

I tried to run from my hiding spot, but he grabbed my neck, not too tight, just on the back, and kept me close. I don't remember much else except that I'd passed out from a mix of exhaustion and dehydration. When I came back, he was there. He explained what happened to my dad and assured me that I would not be put into foster care. Instead, he'd been given permission by the other O-5s to serve as my legal guardian until I was eighteen. He didn't know much in the ways of love, but he kept true to his promises to keep me safe as long as he could and to teach me all he knew in hopes that one day I would use it.

It wasn't a bad upbringing, like I said, just hard. How anyone could turn their heart to stone like that was beyond me. I couldn't do it, which disappointed him somewhat. Well, if I tried to please all, I'd be pleasing no one. Regardless, I loved and respected him as another father figure ever since then.

"Carson?" Jiminy's bubbly voice pulled me from my thoughts.  
"Huh? What?" I asked.  
"Are you okay?"  
"Yeah. Just thinking is all".  
"About what?"  
"Just past stuff. Nothing for you to worry about little guy".  
"Oh okay…was it because of 682?".  
"A little, but I'm also anxious about 049 coming here".  
"Awww don't worry. He won't hurt you".  
"I'm not worried about getting hurt".  
"Then what's wrong?"  
"I'm afraid, but for some reason I don't know why".  
"Oh…well don't be scared. I won't let anyone hurt you, not ever. I promise".

I couldn't help but smile. "Thanks little man, I appreciate it".


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Within a week, Dr. Cool arrived with his entire entourage, armed guards and all. He didn't actually need them, as he was strong enough on his own. He just thought it was a good intimidation factor. Most would agree but I personally found it ridiculous and somewhat redundant. But I knew better than to say anything to him about it.

Following his entourage was a squad of MTFs, two of which were holding poles that had chains attached to them. On the ends of the chain was the Plague Doctor, his hands manacled together and a collar of steel around his neck. His hood was up, as usual, and his "masked" face was down. I tried to stifle the feeling of pity I had seeing something so magnificent looking being chained and bound like an animal, but it was hard. In a way, he looked defeated but deep down I knew better. 049 had broken containment before, at least three times, which meant he was a lot stronger, a lot more willful, than he appeared.

Meanwhile, Cool kept his brown eyes on me. He moved much like an owl to me, silent and unhurried, never taking his eyes from his prey. The man was a predator and no one knew that better than me. And I, like the subservient mouse, kept my place. Never straying, never breaking, never even bothering to question why.

Dr. Cool alone was, as I said before, intimidating enough. He wore his usual brown beret from his ranger days and black trench coat. The breathing respirator he wore covered the lower half of his face. When he stared at you, he was looking through you, not at you. The man was a predator, and given the chance, he would probably stare one down and win. Compared to me, he was my opposite in nearly every single way.

I knew I really had no real reason to be afraid. Even as a child, he never struck me, except for training exercises and even then, it was always to teach me something. I never gave him a reason to discipline me, and even when I needed it, a stern word or a cold stare was more than enough to scare me back into line if I ever stepped out. Despite all that though, he had something that not too many other doctors here had when it came to me: My respect and my trust.

"Dr. Cool" I nodded as he approached, practically bowing my head in respect.

He peered down at the scar on my cheek. Feeling suddenly self conscious, I put a hand to it.

"We need to talk, alone preferably" he said, "My office…now".

He didn't need to tell me twice. I headed back to his office as he gave the MTFs orders to take 049 down to one of the basement cells. He reminded them to be aware of Draco. But as I walked away, I noticed someone else was with them. Someone I very quickly recognized.

It was Iris Thompson, AKA SCP-105. Upon first glance, nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary with her. She had long blonde hair that hung in loose ringlets and waves. Her eyes were light blue, but appeared gray from a distance. She wore a long black sweater styled jacket over a lavender dress shirt and tan formal pants. Her power: Reality manipulation through photographs taken with a special camera. She could do it with other cameras too but it was best done with SCP 105-B, a seemingly ordinary Polaroid One Step 600 Camera. When she took pictures on it, they would become real time images, and she could reach in and manipulate what was going on. Because of this, 105-B was kept locked away. Why she was here I wasn't sure, but I was interested in finding out. It was unusual to say the least…

I shook my head and continued on my way, making my way into the office. I took a seat in one of the chairs, already having the feeling of a scolded child. Finally my mentor came in and took his place in front of me.

An uncomfortable, heavy silence reigned for a minute until I finally decided to break it. "So...what's my punishment?" I asked wanting to get straight to the point.  
"Who said anything about a punishment?"  
"Well, I did confront 106. Doesn't that usually entail a disciplinary act of some sort? Especially given the risks involved".  
"Well, it's rather unusual that he let a potential victim survive, and only with a scar on top of that. Usually dying is punishment enough".  
"To my credit though, I thought he was gonna kill Ban-096" I stopped myself from calling him by his nickname.  
Cool sighed aggravated. "Carson Marie O'Reilly, you aren't supposed to name them".  
"I didn't" I replied simply, "My father did".  
"And he was a fool for doing it. He was too attached to them. I hoped you wouldn't follow in his footsteps".  
I shrugged. "Well we all gotta face disappointment sometime. I guess it's an O'Reilly thing".  
"I trained you better than this, Rabbit".

He called me rabbit for my timid nature as a kid. I was curious, but always about the things that could possibly kill me. It was like a rabbit going into the jaws of death. I didn't reply and he went on.

"They're objects, Carson. Nothing more or less".  
"But they're also a lot like us. Not exactly human but a lot of them do have human characteristics" needless to say, I've had this debate with him several times.  
"Regardless, what you did was reckless and you could've easily been killed".

I stared at the wall thoughtfully. I knew what Dr. Cool said was true, but I couldn't help but wonder what my dad would say in that moment. That's when I had to say it. I just never could learn, could I?

"Dad would've been proud….and he would've been thankful I was alive".  
"And you think I'm not?"  
"You don't seem it".  
Dr. Cool rolled his eyes and sighed. "I just wish you were careful, Carson. I know it's your job but damn it we have rules for a reason. As I said you could've easily been killed".  
"And what would you have done?"

I really needed to learn when to shut up. He glared at me, thoughtful and angry. I didn't look back at him. I swear, there were times when he saw me in a similar light to my subjects: Nothing but a number. But his response actually did surprise me a little.

"I would've been devastated" he admitted, "As reckless as you are, you do contribute much to the Foundation. And on top of that, losing you would've taken a personal toll on me. You dying at a young age would be a bad mark on me as a guardian".

I chuckled at that, but when I looked he was being totally serious. I cocked my head a little and sighed.

"Alright, if it helps, I understand. It will never happen again" I said.  
"Promise me, O'Reilly".  
"I promise to never confront 106 again. Better now?"  
"It'll do. I swear you act more and more like Derrick every day. You're probably about as stubborn as he was".  
"I'm assuming stubbornness is an O'Reilly thing too".  
"Regardless, you need to put that stubbornness on a tight leash, Carson. It could cost you dearly".

It was probably meant to be a warning, but for some odd reason it had the sting of a threat.

"So…I was expecting the plague doctor" I said, "But not Iris. So what's the deal?"  
"She's a special case. We had a problem at Site 17. I deemed it unsafe after the last breach we had".  
"What happened if you don't mind me asking".  
"Issues with a D-Class. Nothing a bullet to the head couldn't solve".

Dr. Cool hated D-Class personnel. They were all death row inmates we picked up to do testing on and he considered them less than animals. Whenever I'd try to ask why, he'd said the issue wasn't mine to worry about, or something aloof like that. I didn't always agree with his methods, and I wasn't the only one, but I wasn't one to argue either. I dealt with them on occasion, but hardly ever. He had his way, and I had mine. It was best to leave it that way. I quickly decided to change the subject.

"So when do I get my session with 049?" I asked.  
"Probably not until tomorrow. From what I understand though, you have some reports to give".  
"Two big ones primarily. You might not like either one, but…I guess you should know".  
"Fire away".  
"Well, I've thought of something as a motivator for SCP-682 to stop breaking containment".  
"Go on…" he was only seemed remotely interested.  
"Okay, here goes. You know how he's taken a liking to 053 right?"  
"Everyone knows that".  
"Well, what if we used it as a motivation tool?"  
"Meaning?"  
"If 682 can go up to say…maybe three months without breaking containment or killing any of the staff, we should allow them to see each other. Quid pro quo".  
"There is absolutely no guarantee that it would work. Nice try, Carson".  
"Well hold on, we'll never know unless we give it a shot. Think about it like this: Tilikum, the whale at Sea World who killed his trainer, well, it's hypothesized he killed her due to a psychotic fit caused by social isolation. It's exactly what my dad proposed about 173. Isolation leads to frustration, frustration to aggression, and aggression to psychosis. You guys took a huge risk with 173 and he's come a long way with therapy and some mental simulation".  
"We're trying to terminate, 682, Carson. Not tame it".  
"But why kill something with so much potential? If we give him something he wants in return for a speck of good behavior, he can only do more good than harm. He's psycho, but he loves that girl and would do anything to see her again. He would kill for her".  
"And that's exactly why we're looking for a way to terminate that damn lizard. If he gets out, it'll destroy everything in its path. It's an SCP, not an intelligent whale".  
"Orcas are technically dolphins" I crossed my arms.  
"Whatever, close enough".  
"But you're right, he isn't. He's more intelligent than an Orca, which of course makes him more deadly. But I think if we gave it a shot, it could work. I say we should at least test it".  
Dr. Cool sighed and face palmed. "You'll stop at nothing, will you?".  
"And who taught me to do that?" I couldn't suppress a smug grin, "And on top of that, I'm a stubborn O'Reilly after all".  
"Fine, I'll take it up with the O-5 council but if they don't agree to let you do this, you better not bring it up again, Rabbit".  
"Yes!" I fist pumped and he gave me a weird look. I forced myself to calm a little, "Yes sir".  
"You said you had two things. What was the other?".

Okay this was the big one. I had to do this, for Jim's sake. I knew he was really counting on me for this.

"Alright, this might sound ridiculous, but…SCP 173 wants a job" I said, hoping for the best.

The look he gave me was nearly priceless. Dr. Cool blinked an amusingly confused fashion, and I would've laughed had the situation not been so serious.

"What?" he said after a minute.  
"He wants a job. He's bored".  
"And what in god's name do you think it can do as a…job?"  
"Well think about it. 173 has impeccable senses, which is part of what made him so deadly way back then. If we can use that for, say, maybe late night security-"  
"Absolutely not!"  
"Why?!"  
"Really Carson?! Do I need to draw a picture for you?! It would get out! I raised you to know better than this, for god's sake!" he stood, now practically towering over me, "This will not be argued! SCP-173 is to remain contained!"

I sighed, knowing there was no chance of me winning this fight. If Dr. Cool said no, the answer was no, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. I sat back in my chair, trying hard not to show my displeasure. Dr. Cool wasn't buying it though.

"I know your job is to help these…objects feel more human, but we simply can't take the risk any SCP escaping. These rules are set for a good reason, Carson. And every single one of us is bound by then. Do you understand?"

I didn't like how he called my patients objects. He didn't know them like I did. I understood that getting close to SCPs only caused complications, but in my line of work it was impossible to not get close. It was essential if one truly wanted to see how an SCPs mind works. Regardless, I nodded.

"I understand, sir".  
"Good. Now that's never to be brought up again. It's bad enough I'm practically bending the rules for your other little idea. Find ways to keep that damn sculpture entertained and out of sight".

I was trying harder to keep my anger under wraps. He seemed to forget at times that I was empathic. So on top of my own anger I was feeling his, and it wasn't a good combination. I would need some serious meditation later.

"I will. So tomorrow, I'll have the plague doctor?"  
"It'll be all yours. But O'Reilly…do try to resist naming this one".  
"Roger that".

But deep down, I knew that wasn't possible. Every life had value and it was my job to show that value to others and to themselves.

_Author's note: I do not own Dr. Cool. He belongs to the Haunted Reader on Youtube. If you guys want some awesome SCP readings, he's the go to guy. Thanks Haunted, for letting me use your character. I hope I did him some justice. I know, I know, he would never actually agree to do anything to "help" SCP 682 given their history, but it's gonna be a huge plot point later. Don't forget to review guys, it helps a lot_


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

I had to go to tell Draco the good news, but something kept nagging at me in my head. What did 106 want with me? Did Larry know who put the mirror in Banshee's containment chamber?

"No" I told myself, "You promised never to confront Larry again".

But still, it wouldn't leave me alone. I would need to get permission, but if I could just find out…Clef briefly came to mind. If anyone could find out what Larry's game was, it would probably be him. But I didn't completely trust him. Take it from me, anyone associated with Dr. Bright was worth trusting. I shuddered at the thought of that damn monkey. Even as a child, he'd frightened me, and more often than I could count, Dr. Cool threatened to castrate him (or at times worse) if he ever came near me again. He's one of those guys I'd rather just forget even exists and I'm sure I'm not the only one. I wondered sometimes why in the world would anyone bring in someone so destructive when so much was on the line here on a daily basis. It was beyond me.

Before I knew it, I was standing in front of Clef's office, hesitating to knock. This definitely wasn't a good idea I knew, but I couldn't break a promise to Dr. Cool. So if I didn't turn to someone for help, I wouldn't have a choice. I closed my eyes and knocked loudly.

"Door's open" Clef called from inside and I cracked it open enough to put my head in.  
"Hey there" I said.

Clef looked up from the stack of reports on his desk to see my head poked in the doorway. He gave me a light, all too friendly smile. As if he had known I was coming. Perhaps he did…

"Ah, Dr. O'Reilly. To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?".

I stepped in completely and closed the door behind me. "I need a favor".  
"Oh?" he appeared puzzled for a second, "What kind of favor?"  
"Can you talk to Radical Larry for me? Maybe help me find out what he wants? He's a reality bender, sorta kinda right?"  
"More of an interdimensional traveler, but close enough. That's a huge favor, Carson, even for me. As O-5 Command has stated, no physical contact with Larry is allowed, and for good reason. You're lucky to have gotten away with just a scar".  
"Well I mean, my thing is that I promised Dr. Cool I'd never confront him directly again. I need to know what he wants, and he might know who put that mirror in Banshee's cell on top of that".  
"Well to his credit, you kinda did throw yourself out there".

I rolled my eyes. "Besides that I mean. Think about it. He never passes up an easy meal".  
"On top of that, he's also batshit nuts, but an ideal hunter. He has his own twisted reasons for doing what he does. He is Radical Larry after all".

I sighed, as all he was doing was telling me stuff I already knew. This was getting me nowhere and Clef sensed my displeasure.

"Alright, I'll see what I can find out. However, if I'm successful, you'll owe me a favor in return".  
"What do you want?"  
"Oh I'm not sure just yet. But I'm sure I'll come up with something. Who knows? Maybe my favor will be more for your benefit than anyone else's"

Clef was naturally cryptic, so there wasn't much I could say or do when it came to what he said. I just simply nodded.

"Thanks. I'll be there when you need me".  
"Just be careful, Carson. The truth might not be all that it seems".  
"Uh…thanks for the warning…I guess" I was more confused than anything as I made my way out.

Then I made my way down to Draco's basement chamber, in a good mood for the first time in a while. But when Draco saw me, he wasn't too pleased, as usual.

"**The hell do you want?" **he asked.  
"Well, I have news" I told him.  
**"Other than your precious mentor being here?"**.  
"Well, it's actually related to Abby".

That shut Draco up before he could make another smart ass comment.

"**I'm listening…intently".  
**"Well I took my idea up with Dr. Cool. He said that if he can get the O-5 Council to approve we might actually try it".  
**"Wow" **Draco commented, **"That's a damn shocker".  
**"Yeah I know, I'm as surprised as you are".  
**"So I have to wait another damn month? I fuckin' hate waiting!"  
**"It might be longer, depending on what the Council decides".

Draco wasn't happy about that. The oversized lizard SCP snarled and slammed his tail down angrily.

"**In that case I'd be waiting for years! How the hell am I supposed to be sure she's safe if I'm nowhere near her?!". **

That sentiment was more shocking than Dr. Cool's partial approval of my idea. It spoke volumes, proving that Draco did care for Abby and her well being. I found it to be oddly endearing.

"I can promise you she's okay. She's a tough kid".  
**"And I don't argue that. But…it's not the same".  
**"I'm so sorry Draco. Listen all I need you to do is just bear with me a little, for her sake".  
Draco growled. **"I'm gonna hate it, but for her I'd do anything".  
**"Thank you, Draco. So…how are you liking 049 down here?"  
**"He's kept his mouth shut, which is just frikkin' great". **  
"Well that's good I suppose".  
**"Must be waiting for you to put him on the couch. Just gotta watch out for the quiet ones" **Draco growled, **"Can't turn your back on 'em. Not even for a damn minute".  
**"So you don't trust him?" I asked.

He gave me a look that simply said: Do you really have to ask? To which I just shrugged and replied.

"I'm sure it won't be that bad".  
**"So your mentor's here" **Draco smirked maliciously, **"How's his throat?"  
**"You know you're an insufferable dick right?"  
**"I'm a badass, what are you talkin' about?"  
**"Okay Draco, whatever floats your boat".  
**"Water and badassery float my boat".  
**"That must be one tiny boat".  
Draco looked confused for a moment. **"Was that your pathetic attempt at an insult?"  
**"Was it that bad?"  
**"Bad enough to possibly give me a nosebleed due to immense stupidity".  
**"Your nose is fine" I said, "Hey, do you know if Jim's up?"  
**"How the hell should I know? Didn't realize it was my turn to keep an eye on him".  
**"Well then, I'll see you next week, Draco. Remember, be good…or at least try to be".  
Draco made what sounded like a scoffing sound. **"I promise you nothing". **

I simply smiled and made my way out. My original thought was to go see Jim about what had happened earlier with me and Dr. Cool. Knowing him, he was probably worried about me as well, as he hadn't heard from me since my incident with Larry. But for some strange reason I felt the urge to go see 049. My session with him wasn't until tomorrow, but it was my damn curiosity getting the better of me. It was a fight I was bound to lose and I was right.

Instead of leaving the lower level containment cells, I ventured further. The hallway was dimly lit, making it seem eerie and somewhat nightmarish. The scent of metal attacked my nose but I pressed on. For whatever reason, I needed to find him. Whether it was curiosity or instinct, I didn't know. After wandering for what felt like ages, I finally found the cell he was being held in.

From the observation window, I could see him sitting calmly in a corner. For a moment, I thought I could hear him humming. The tune sounded familiar, but I couldn't remember where I'd heard it. He wasn't a big fan of moving, obviously, as he just stayed in that corner. I cocked my head, trying to get a better look at his masked face.

"Don't bite that lip too hard now" his metallic voice left my ears with an oddly pleasant ringing, "You wouldn't want to draw blood after all".

I hadn't realized I was biting my lip. I usually only did that when I was in a deep state of concentration. Dr. Cool told me it was better than my dad, who actually stuck his tongue out when he was concentrated.

"How'd you know?" I asked, "You're not even looking at me".  
"I am, you just can't see my eyes. But I can see you just as easily as you can see me. Call it a talent if you will".

His voice was calm with a metallic tint. I imagined it's what silver, or maybe platinum, would sound like if it could talk. Something told me deep down that I'd heard it before, but from where I couldn't remember. It only had me more curious.

"You're 049" I said as a fact not a question.  
"That is what they call me, yes. I do not usually approve of being called by a number, but I've told them to call me as they will. I've been known by many names".  
"Didn't dad ever nickname you?"

At my question, the plague doctor looked up at the window over at me. Finally I could see his eyes, like two hazel gems gleaming in the faint light of the cell. He rose from his corner and moved toward the window, possibly curious about who I was. When he was close enough he put a thick gloved hand to the window.

"Are you Carson O'Reilly? Was your father Derrick O'Reilly?"  
"He was. So you do remember him?"

The plague doctor looked down for a moment and I swear when he looked at me again I saw a hint of sorrow and loss in those hazel orbs.

"One does not so easily forget someone like him. I never sensed a disease in him, but he did have poor blood circulation in his legs" he said, "Much like you do".

I was taken aback. He spoke truth, 'cause I've had issues with leg pain since I was little. The cause was poor circulation and in my case it was hereditary. No one knew what actually cause the poor circulation, but it was there, and often times it was painful to move around.

"How did you know?" I asked.  
"It's not just the Great Pestilence I can sense" he explained, "But I can find all sorts of medical ailments".  
"And you cure them all in one way: By turning victims into animated corpses".  
"On the bright side they do not have to deal with the pain any longer. Contrary to what you may have been told, I try to cause as little suffering as possible. But no, usually that particular Cure is used for those with the disease. After all, my cure is most effective".

I didn't like where this was going. Something told me I needed to get out of there; that I needed to run and not look back. But I couldn't, wouldn't, move. When I said nothing in response, he asked me a question of his own:

"You really don't remember, do you?"  
"Remember what?"  
"Me. Us. The night we lost everything".  
"What?" I was utterly confused, "What in the world are you-"  
"RABBIT!" another voice cut me off, Dr. Cool's.

I jumped, startled by the unexpected interruption and the sharpness of his tone. 049 on the other hand kept his signature calm demeanor. I tried to think of an explanation, but my mind turned up blank.

"Your session isn't until tomorrow. Take care of whatever other business you may have. And don't even think about coming back down here today".  
"Y-yes sir" I ducked my head as I walked past him to head back to the upper floors, but I thought I heard the Plague Doctor say something before I got out of ear shot.

"So…It is to be war between us again".

Instead of staying to find out what he meant, I left. I sensed way too much hostility and it was getting to me. It felt like I was suffocating on it. So I'd go and get much better company.

I had a sculpture to visit…


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

A most hilarious sight greeted me when I got to Jim's cell. Someone, I still don't know who, had apparently gifted him with a boom box and when I arrived he was listening to a song I knew and loved: Uptown Girl by Billy Joel. I never knew Jim was a Billy Joel fan and I couldn't suppress a smile. On top of that he was trying to dance to it, which made it all the more hilarious.

The music was turned up so he didn't hear me come in. I watched Jim as he tried to dance, which consisted of him mostly shifting and changing direction, scraping his floor up all the while. To add to my humor, he was humming the tune. I burst out laughing and Jim stopped abruptly.

"**What?"** he asked, **"Can't a sculpture dance to some good music now? Sheesh…"**.

I couldn't stop smiling as I went over to the boom box and turned it off. Jim gave me a playful scowl.

"**You threw off my groove, Carson. Good thing I like you though. So…uh…pardon the mess, they haven't-Hey! What happened to your face?!"**

Jim's tone was genuinely concerned. Feeling self conscious again, I put a hand on my scar.

"Bad run in with Larry".  
**"Want me to kick his ass?"**  
I shook my head. "It's not worth it".  
"Yeah I doubt that. But if you insist, I'll be nice. Shocked he didn't take you to his dimension".  
"And you're not the only one" I told him, "The whole site's been talking about it, but I still think he's planning it".  
**"Heh…wouldn't shock me. The guy's a damn predator. But anyway, I'm glad you're alright. Don't think I'd last long here without that pretty face of yours".**  
"Someone else would take my place".  
**"But they wouldn't be you. It wouldn't be the same without you, Carson".**  
"Anyway" I steered the conversation another way, "Dr. Cool's here".  
**"So I've heard. I take it you guys chatted a little?"**  
"Yeah and I brought up your job idea".  
**"Let me guess, he turned it flat?"**  
"I'm sorry" I sighed, "He thinks you'll try to escape".  
**"Figured as much. I don't get it. We try to do some good, the few of us that actually can, but he won't even give us a chance".**  
"He's just really set in his beliefs that you guys are nothing more but objects" I explained, "He doesn't know how else to see you".  
**"As you do"** Jim replied, "**As equals. Individuals with special gifts".**  
"My dad believed that about you guys. After I read his journals I believed it too. It's why I do what I do".  
Jim gave me a pleasant smile. **"He'd be proud of you, Carson. Hell I am. Please don't change your views. You're one of the few people that actually believe in us".**  
"How can't I?" I replied, "I've seen you guys do both good and evil. You're just as imperfect as any person here. You SCPs are no better or worse than us".  
Jim's smile didn't fade. **"And that's why it wouldn't be the same without you, Carson. You're the only one who seems to get it".**  
"Get what?"  
**"Everything".**  
"I don't get everything. Like…how 049 knows me".  
Jim shrugged. "**It's probably cause of your dad". **  
"Well no. I mean he implied earlier he was there when dad died".  
**"Was he?"**  
"I don't think so. I mean, there's no way he could've been".  
**"Eh, he's one of those guys who likes to be cryptic, you know?".**  
"Well it didn't seem cryptic. It felt like he knew something. Something I don't know".  
**"Hm…looks like you got a mystery on your hands, gorgeous. I'd love to help but I'm not sure what I can do".  
**"Just keep an ear open".  
**"Will do, beautiful. Hey, but uh…if you're not doing anything this weekend, wanna hang out here?".**  
"Are you asking me out?"  
**"What?! Nah, just bein' friendly".**  
"Right…well, it'd be nice but I'm probably gonna be staying in my quarters this weekend".  
**"What?! Why?!"  
**"It's the anniversary of my dad's death".  
**"Oh"** Jim gave me a somewhat grim look, **"Sorry Carson".**  
"It's alright. I'll be here when we have our next session".  
**"Promise?"**  
"I swear it" I smiled and grabbed one of his stubby, concrete arms.

Jim then gave me one of his usual, self assured smiles.

"**But uh, hey, if you need a shoulder to cry on, or someone to watch sad movies or chick flicks with, I'm here". **

I laughed and let go of his arm as I got up to leave.

"I may just take you up on that, Jim. Not now maybe but someday".  
Jim leaned up against his usual wall. **"You just keep giving me more to look forward to. But in all seriousness, what if you find out he really was there when your dad died?"**

I hadn't thought of that. It only made me question what exactly happened that night eighteen years ago. What did the plague doctor know that I didn't?

"I don't know Jim" I finally answered, "I simply don't know".

I walked out, closing the door to his cell behind me. Tomorrow I hoped would provide answers…

That night I went back over my father's journals and I started to notice that something wasn't adding up. At least two of the five journals my father wrote were somewhat hard to keep open. Something appeared to be wrong with the spines of the two journals, like they'd been changed, maybe taken apart and put back together. I'd never been able to keep the books open for too long, and now I was starting to wonder why. I laid the books out on my bed and tried stretching them open as much as I could. Upon further observation, I noticed the bindings had been altered as well, frayed slightly with age. In between the bindings, I noticed something I hadn't before.

Unsure of what else to do, I grabbed a pair of tweezers from a nearby table. Keeping the journal open, I took the tweezers in between the string bindings and pulled out a very small piece of paper. It was a really small piece, most would think it was nothing of importance, but it looked like an edge, like the page had been torn out.

"What the hell?" I laid it out with the journals on my bed.

Had a page actually been torn out? It would seem so, but why? And most importantly, who did it? Dad wasn't one to simply throw away his work. It didn't make any sense. I flipped through the other journals, trying to find anymore hints at torn pages. I only found other ripped pieces in the two modified journals. I sighed in aggravation as I couldn't find any clues as to why they had been torn out. I slumped back on my bed, more puzzled than anything.

I understood that the foundation had secrets, and I was nobody to look into those secrets. But it didn't stop me from wondering. What did my dad have to hide if anything? If the Chaos Insurgency had really attacked our home, why not take the journals themselves and not just pages out two particular ones? A part of me suspected that the pages were torn due to possibly being more personal in content than professional. See, dad wrote about everything in his life, both in and out of the Foundation.

But if the Foundation had wanted to keep dad's personal life from me, why not take ALL of the personal entries out? It made no sense, and left me with more questions than answers. I sighed and for the first time in a very long time, I felt powerless. A smaller part of me felt lied to and betrayed, the small part that dared to believe that maybe the Foundation had more to hide from me than anything else...

_I heard voices outside the door. One I wasn't all too familiar with, but the other I recognized instantly. It was my dad's. His voice sounded strained and tearful, like he was holding back sobs. I listened behind the door, in the darkness of the closet, my heart pounding in absolute terror. What in the world was going on? _

"_Father…Father please don't…please don't do this!" the voice that I hadn't recognized, but yet when I thought about it sounded like 049, sounded in a heavy panic, "Let me go with them! She needs you!".  
"Lucian!" my father's shaking voice replied harshly, "Stop it! If I don't they'll kill her too. This…this can only end one way, can't it?"  
"No!" the other voice, "Lucian" I assumed, pleaded, "Not this way!". _

_But dad ignored him and I heard him turn to face his assailant. "My children will live…in exchange for my life". _

"_FATHER NO!" _

"_Lucian, look after Carson for me. Don't…don't look. I…I love you both, so much. Don't forget that. And I'm…I'm so proud of you both. Remember Lucian, you are my son…and I love you. Carson, if you can hear me, have courage and be kind to those who need it-" _

I woke before I could hear the gunshots in my head. I calmed my breathing, knowing it was nothing but a nightmare. At least now I knew where I'd heard 049's voice before, but why in a dream, much more a nightmare? Something else to add to my list of things that didn't make sense.

It hadn't been the first time I dreamed of my father's death. The first was shortly after it happened, when Dr. Cool rescued me. His legal guardianship over me was in the process of being finalized and so I was living with him in his private quarters. I can't remember at which site it was though.

I was a naturally panicky kid back then. I still hadn't grown to trust my new guardian. Unsure of what else to do, I went to the only place I felt safe in: The closet. Yeah, I had a weird obsession with closets too apparently. Dr. Cool would always jokingly tell the other O-5s that I was always looking Narnia as a child.

At any rate, he came to check on me that night only to be scared out of his mind when I wasn't in bed. Of course, he never outright told me he had been afraid, but I felt it. And of course it didn't take a rocket scientist to tell that I was scared. He found me curled up in the closet with some blankets…

"_Carson…what the hell are you doing in here?"  
"I…I heard him…"  
"Who?"  
I hesitated. "Daddy".  
"Carson" he sighed facepalming himself, "Rabbit-"  
"He was in pain!" I suddenly started sobbing, "He was scared! But I…I couldn't help him!". _

_Dr. Cool looked awkward and stiffened as I collided into him, bawling. I felt like it was all my fault dad died and now Cool had to "Put up" with me. I felt like I was nothing but a burden. _

"_Carson!" the sharpness of his tone made me look up at him. To my surprise he managed to peel my arms off from around his legs and kneeled down to my height. With a softness that surprised me for a man of his size and importance, he brushed away a tear with the pad of his thumb. _

"_Rabbit" his brown eyes met mine, "What happened that night was not, in any way, shape or form, you fault. You survived because you listened to your father. Now I know I'll never be able to take his place, and I'm not trying to either. To be honest I never knew how he could do it".  
"Do what?" I asked. _

_We moved over to the bed, where he turned on the lamp that was on the table. He let me settle down under the warm covers and finally answered me. _

"_If there was one thing I admired about your father, it was his capacity to love. Many, myself included, thought it was a weakness, and perhaps it was, but he died so that his child could live and that made him a hero in my eyes. I personally never cared for much, but Derrick O'Reilly followed his heart to the letter. He meant well, but I'm afraid it was that very trait that got him killed".  
"But isn't that a good thing? We should always trust ourselves, right? What our hearts tell us?"  
"Ourselves, definitely. It's others we need to be weary of".  
"What about you?"  
"What about me?"  
"Can I trust you?"  
"You can trust me, but only in some degrees".  
"What do you mean?"  
"I don't know how to love so much, like he did. So living with me won't be easy but I can promise you this: I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe as long as you need me. And, if I can't be considered family, you can rely on my as your most loyal…friend, I suppose. Now get some sleep. And no more hiding in closets. I don't need you getting lost looking for Narnia".  
"What's Narnia?"  
Dr. Cool sighed. "Just get some sleep, I'll read you the Chronicles of Narnia starting tomorrow…" _

And he kept his word. According to most of my coworkers, it wasn't every day that Dr. Cool put and individual ahead of himself. I guess parenthood or guardianship does that to people. But I didn't have too much time to dwell on it. I had my session with the Plague Doctor in only a few hours…


	8. Chapter 7

**)Chapter 7**

Dr. Cool met me outside 049's containment cell. He didn't look pleased, as usual, but something told me it had to do with yesterday. It appeared I may have another interrogation on my hands, except I was the one being interrogated. I kept myself relaxed, despite all those thoughts.

"Morning, Dr. Cool" I said simply, attempting to be as friendly as possible.  
"Rabbit" he acknowledged me, "Why the hell were you down here yesterday?"  
"I was curious" I gave him a casual shrug.  
"You know what they say about curiosity, Carson".  
"About killing cats? I know".  
"I won't be tolerating reckless behavior, Rabbit. You've been on quite a streak".  
"I understand, Dr. Cool. But rest assured I had everything under control".  
"Right. Look Carson, you don't have to do this. I've been thinking, perhaps you aren't ready for this".

Okay, that was unusual. Dr. Cool hardly ever doubted my abilities, especially with Euclid class SCPs. After all, he was the one that trained me. It was how I was able to handle Draco and all his nonsense. So why the sudden hesitance?

"I'll be fine" I told him, "I've handled worse than this. You know that".  
"I'm just afraid that it'll be too much for you" he replied, "Your father was very invested in this SCP".  
"I know. Just trust me, Dr. Cool. I can handle this".  
"Be careful, O'Reilly".  
"I will. Look, if things get too intense, I'll call it off. I promise. Just trust me".  
"It's mostly that thing I don't trust".

I didn't reply this time and I made my way inside the cell to a nearby chair that had been set up for me earlier. I trembled, but whether it was from anticipation, cold, or something else I wasn't sure. When I came in, I heard 049's metallic, yet oddly melodic voice humming a familiar tune. His hazel eyes were closed and it was like he didn't even notice me. I took my seat and waited for him to finish. Unsure of what else to do, I actually started to mumble the final words to the song.

"My name is death and the end is here…"

The plague doctor finally acknowledged me, but kept his eyes downcast. "I see you know it as well".  
"It's one of my favorites" I replied, "I prefer the Jen Titus version of Oh Death. They used it in Supernatural to introduce Death".  
"One of the four horsemen I do believe".  
"At any rate, how are you this morning?"

The plague doctor finally looked at me for a moment and then around the room. His eyes fell on the nearby observation window, and I felt a flash of hatred. I saw the anger in his eyes, very human like, burning like an intense flame.

"As well as I can get in this situation" his voice however contained no venom.  
"For what it's worth, I apologize for any discomfort you may have".  
"It is no fault of yours, doctor. Far from it. Actually, it is quite nice to have someone somewhat familiar to talk to".  
"Is that why you broke containment? Why you spoke to SCP-035?"  
"One of many".  
"What'd you talk about?"  
"Well, what do you talk about when meeting an old friend? We just simply…caught up, I suppose".  
"He's a friend?".  
"Yes, I do have those, believe it or not. I once even dared to believe I had a family, but that was many years ago. I doubt anyone would tell the truth about them. That's a tale for another time".  
"There is something I've been meaning to ask you".  
"Oh…and what would that be?" he seemed a little more interested now.  
"My father, why did you talk to him rather than any of the other doctors?".  
"Hm…" the plague doctor looked down thoughtfully, "Perhaps I felt like I could trust him. We were both doctors, albeit not the same kind exactly. We didn't see eye to eye at first, but I thought we were working towards a common goal together. To rid this world of the Great Pestilence".  
"So, the "Great Pestilence", is it ignorance?".  
"No. Ironically enough ignorance is a mere symptom of it. The pestilence I examine, Dr. O'Reilly, is in fact human mortality".  
"Human mortality? So you're searching for a way to make humanity immortal?"

I saw him flinch slightly, as if I had burned or insulted him. But he shook it off, recovering his usual calm.

"Never. I am not even immortal, doctor. If I found the secret to immortality, I would certainly never share it with humanity".  
"Why?" I wondered, "You would condemn us all to death if given the chance".  
"And you think humanity doesn't deserve such a fate?"

I shook my head, being as honest as I could. He only seemed slightly more intrigued.

"Hm…Derrick believed the same thing. You're more like him than you realize".  
"So I've been told, countless times".

I wanted to ask what he meant yesterday when we talked. But I was sure it would be inappropriate, seeing as how we were being watched. Silence reigned for a full minute before I broke it.

"Did you like my father?"

The plague doctor looked around, as if searching for an answer within the walls. At last he looked at me again.

"I saw him inevitably the same way you did. At first he was just another doctor, another nuisance. But as I learned more about him, the more I began to understand, and appreciate, his purpose. He was not like the others, who saw me as a mere object. Your father saw me, an individual. I realized that yes, he did fear the SCPs, but he tried to conquer that fear by trying to personally understand them. I believe he recorded many of our sessions in journals, much like you are".  
I nodded. "He did, but…he only recorded general information. Basically stuff I already learned from Dr. Cool".  
"He taught you? Hm…I should have seen that coming. Tell me, how many journals did they give you?"  
"That's not-"  
"It is important, Doctor".

I couldn't tell him. I knew what he was doing, but I couldn't let him have what he wanted. I simply got up, picking up my notes as I did.

"Thank you, 049. I got what I needed for now. I'll see about scheduling another session next week".  
"Hmph…you have not gotten nearly enough, but I must say that I will be looking forward to this next encounter".

I gave him what I hoped was a skeptical look and walked out. Dr. Cool waited for me outside, a little ways away from all that. It was a good thing too, because my curiosity was only getting more and more peeked. I struggled to suppress my questions but nothing was working.

"That was indeed rather interesting" he said.  
I paused a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. "How does he know me?".  
"What?"  
"049…he knows me. How?" I asked, trying to keep calm.  
"He doesn't. Damn it, I knew you weren't ready, Carson".  
"Really? Because he sounds like he does. Is he lying…or are you lying?"  
"That thing is playing mind games with you, Rabbit. You can't let him get to you".  
"Then why is he talking like he knows you're hiding something from me? This wouldn't happen to do with the torn pages in my dad's journals, would it?".  
"Torn pages? What in the hell are you talking about?"  
"I saw that there were torn pages from dad's journals. You didn't take them, did you?".

My mentor sighed, obviously agitated. "I knew this was bound to happen. To answer your question, no, I didn't take any of your father's notes".  
"Then who did?"  
"If any of the pages are missing it's probably because your father tore them out. I made sure the journals were left untouched until they were to be passed on to you".

Now it was my turn to be agitated. I couldn't figure out what was going on anymore. It was getting to me, badly. Dr. Cool put a supportive hand on my shoulder.

"I knew you weren't ready for this, Carson".  
"I am ready!" I pulled away from him, "I just didn't see that coming. Can't you at least tell me if he knew my dad personally or not?!"  
"I can't be certain, Rabbit. But they did seem to share a bond of sorts. What your father saw in that thing is really anyone's guess".  
"Maybe he saw a person, and not a thing".  
"That wouldn't surprise me. Don't tell me you've decided to name it".  
"Oddly enough that's part of what's getting to me, Dr. Cool" I started pacing, "In none of dad's journals does he mention a nickname for 049. That's unusual, as he named all the SCPs he worked with".  
"Perhaps he didn't think of one before he died".  
"Plausible, but unlikely. It just doesn't make sense".

Before this could contemplated further, another researcher I didn't recognize came in.

"Sir" he addressed Dr. Cool, "We've checked the security cameras from around 096's cell. There seems to be slight data corruption, but you might want to see what we managed to capture…and even study a little".

Dr. Cool turned to me. "We'll discuss more of this later. Excuse me, Dr. O'Reilly".

I watched them leave, curious as to what they found. I would've followed them, but my phone in my pocket vibrated. I took it out, wondering who would possibly be texting me now. I didn't recognize the number, which made me more suspicious. I decided to take a look and was grateful to find it was actually Clef.

_Carson,  
Talked to Larry. You may be surprised to find what he knows. Meet me at his containment chamber ASAP and we'll talk more.  
-A. Clef_

I simply typed back okay, but it left me with more questions. What could SCP 106 know? Whatever it was, I had to know. Without further contemplation, I decided to head over to Larry's cell. Things were about to get interesting. 


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

I met Dr. Clef just outside 106's containment chamber. A part of me hoped this would help a little to get my mind off the thoughts I'd been having. Clef smiled as I made my way in.

"Didn't realize you had a cell phone" I commented.  
"Eh, they're useful at times. Are you alright? You seem kinda skittish…maybe shaken up a little".  
"It's nothing. I've been thinking a lot lately is all".  
"Huh…so that explains the itch in my brain".  
"Your brain doesn't itch".  
"A joke, O'Reilly, is all. But you and I both know you didn't come here for jokes".  
"Damn right I'm not".  
"Well I haven't gotten too much out of him, but I can tell you what I managed to piece together, and it may actually surprise you".  
"What'd you find?" I asked, more curious than ever.  
"You knew him as a kid".

I felt like the air had been punched out of my lungs. My jaw almost hit the floor.

"Come again?" I asked.  
"You were really little, but you met Larry a long time ago. Wanna know how I know? He has one of your baby canine teeth".  
"Wait, hold on, what?"  
"He has one of you baby canine teeth. He said you gave it to him".  
"Um…I think I would remember if I did".  
_**Doubtful.**_ Another voice, dark and whispery, interfered.

I looked down into the containment chamber and there, firmly on the ground, was Larry. I could see the silvery gleam of his dark eyes I felt a slight rage come on, tinged with my own fear. It wasn't a good combination.

"Tell me what you know you rat bastard" I demanded.  
Larry let out a slight growl. Watch _**your tone, child. Ask a little more nicely and I may oblige.  
**_"Without being cryptic?"  
_**Oh I can't promise that.**_  
"At least prove you have it".  
"Oh he gave it to me" Clef took out a small green case out of his pocket. Inside of it was a tooth, canine, but clearly human.  
"Pst" I rolled my eyes, "that could belong to anyone".  
"Not likely" Clef replied, "Not when it matched your DNA perfectly".  
"And dental records?"  
"Oh I had to find those in case I screw up my other testing. But yeah, it all points to you".  
"Then wait why I don't I remember anything?"  
_**Because your father thought I did something to you.**_  
"And did you?"  
_**No. But it was rather tempting…**_

Thanks to my empathy, I knew Larry wasn't lying. That or he was just a really, REALLY good liar, which that wouldn't have surprised me either. He was a Keter after all, and Keters couldn't always be trusted, if ever actually.

"So let me see if I'm following you so far: You have one of my childhood teeth because I gave it to him and he turned around and gave it to you for testing?"  
"It took some convincing, but yes, that's about it" Clef answered simply.  
"But I can't remember giving him the tooth because dad thought he hurt me to get it?"  
_**Pretty much…  
**_"I was asking Dr. Clef, not you" I turned back to him, "I'm assuming two things here: One, I was too young to remember or two, amnestics were involved".  
"The latter. Dr. O'Reilly made sure you wouldn't remember, with the O-5's approval of course".  
"Why would they even let dad bring me back to the site after that?"  
"It's complicated, but I'll tell you this: They were very invested in you, Carson".

I turned back to Larry. "And that's why you said they were hiding me from you".  
_**Exactly. Because they were.**_  
"Why did I give it to you?" I asked.  
_**You didn't want me to have both**_, Larry explained, So you let me have one. _**You kept the other, I believe. Unless your father took that as well.  
**_"Are you trying to tell me we were…friends once?".  
_**Friends? Hm…that's not quite the word. Perhaps…well…we were acquaintanced on a higher level. **_

Now I was really confused. Larry must've seen it because he elaborated without missing a beat.

_**You used to call me Uncle Larry.  
**_"Uncle Larry…" it rang a very distant bell, and it felt familiar to say it.  
_**We used to talk all the time. You were always such…pleasant company. So fascinated by the macabre, such an interesting child you were. Brave, and fiercely intelligent for your age.  
**_"Okay, this has got to be one of the strangest weeks ever" I admitted.  
"Strange week? How so?" Dr. Clef asked.  
"I think it'd be best to discuss all that alone" I turned to 106, still now in his cell as he watched me intently, "Thank you. I'll…I'll try to remember as much as I can, but I can't make you any promises".

Dr. Clef threw the tooth case back into the cell and I followed him back to his office.

"So" he sat down on his desk as I stood at the wall across from him, "Strange week, huh?"  
__"You have no idea".  
"Wanna talk about it?"  
"Well, it's not really been a week, but it's been strange for some time now. I was going through dad's journals last night and I found that there seemed to be pages missing".  
"Maybe there are. Maybe your dad took 'em out".  
"A part of me wants to think that's what's going on. But I don't think so. Maybe the CI took the pages when they killed him".  
"But why go through the hassle of finding the pages? Why not just take the whole journals?"  
"Exactly my thoughts. So that makes no sense. And on top of that, I had my session with 049 earlier".  
"Oh, I've been waiting to hear about that. How'd it go?"  
"Strange at best, accusing at worst".  
"Accusing?"  
"The plague doctor implied a few things. One, he was there the night my dad died. Two, there are other journals than the five I was given".

Clef appeared thoughtful for a moment. It was impossible for me to tell how he was feeling. He was always difficult to read, now that I think about it. Maybe it was this fact that made me somewhat distrusting of him. I don't know.

"So what exactly are your thoughts?" he asked.  
"I'm thinking the Foundation knows something I don't. But they'd have no reason to hide anything from me, right?"  
"Well, everyone's got secrets, Carson. While your thoughts might make sense, as far as I know only five journals were found containing Derrick's SCP research".  
"But he wrote about personal things in them too. Maybe he had some personal journals he kept separate from his research. All things considered, there has to be more than five. It'd only make sense".  
"Hm" Clef looked down, clearly thinking again, "I know your father had friends too. Most of them are still here in the Foundation".  
"So you think one of them might know something?"  
"Oh yes, but only one I believe would have the balls enough to tell you".  
"Who?"  
"Do you remember Dr. Kondraki? You met him when you were six I think. Your dad knew him, one of the few administrators who actually believed in his work".

I faintly remembered Kondraki. He and my dad were pretty easy with one another. Both had jobs that were considered either unusual or useless to the foundation. On top of that, as part of my training, I'd read his research logs on SCP 408, The Illusory Butterflies.

"In fact" Clef finally looked at me again, "If my memory serves me right, he actually tried to oppose Dr. Cool's legal guardianship over you".  
"Why?"  
"Could be 'cause he knew your dad. And he doesn't trust Dr. Cool either".  
"He's head of research at Site 17 right?"  
"Yep, that he is. The site where you and your dad used to work".  
"Huh…not too far from where was buried, close to home".

Unlike most other agents and doctors, dad was allowed to live outside the foundation, as he inherited a house from his uncle some time before I was born. This was the house he died in, and after his death, it was given to me for when I turned eighteen. The foundation originally wanted to tear the house down, but Dr. Cool believed that it would've been better to keep the house intact, in case I ever wanted to go "home". It was more of a vacation house these days, as I considered Site 19 my real home. But every year I made the journey to my dad's grave to spend the weekend in his honor. But now this year I had a purpose. I had to talk to Dr. Kondraki. If anybody could, would tell me the truth, it was him.

"So, you are going to see him right?" Clef asked.  
I nodded. "If he knows something I wanna find out what it is".  
"Oh good, then you can repay your debt".  
"Debt?"  
"I told you Carson. You'll owe me a favor in exchange for information on Larry".  
"What do you need?"  
"I need some info from good ol' Kondraki about a project called Project: Lucian".  
"Never heard of it…but then again…"  
"What?"  
"I've had nightmares about the night dad was killed since I was little. I had one last night actually. There was someone with us named Lucian. Do you think there's some kind of connection?"  
"I know Derrick didn't like leaving all of his Easter eggs in one basket. If there's some kind of connection, I don't know what it is".  
"You think Kondraki might?"  
Clef shrugged. "He might. Knowing him, he probably knows more than he lets on".

Something told me that Dr. Clef also knew more than what he let on, but I let it slide for the time being.

"Thank you Dr. Clef. For everything".  
"Oh don't thank me just yet. As I said, all of this just may benefit you more than it does me".

Again, I knew he knew more, but I had to let it go for now. I had bigger problems to deal with and the weekend couldn't come fast enough.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

With the O-5 Council's approval, I was finally allowed to take a break and go home for a short while. I appreciated the time alone, but now I had a mission to complete for Dr. Clef as well as for myself. I had a photographer to find, but I spent the Friday I arrived unpacking my things. It wasn't much, just a weekend's worth of clothes, my notes, and dad's journals. Hopefully I'd get my answers soon.

The house only seemed to get slightly bigger every year. Dr. Cool would often joke with me about it, saying I was shrinking rather than growing. It was an old house, built in the early 80s, but thanks to Site 17 staff, it was well maintained. No doubt Dr. Kondraki had something to do with it.

Most of the rooms were empty, as after my dad's death most of our stuff was sold at a public auction or important items confiscated by the Foundation. Only the master room, its attached bathroom, and my dad's study down in the basement were untouched. Those rooms were mine as I needed. Oh, and yeah, I almost forgot. The dining room and kitchen were both cleaned and well stocked for my visit. I stood outside on the back deck, taking in the nice scenery and the scent of fresh air. It was a very welcome escape from the Foundation. For me there really was no place quite like home. But just beyond the ridge of trees and forest area was Site 17, where hopefully I would find some answers.

Around six in the evening, I took dad's jeep down to the Site, my dad's journals and my official SCP Foundation ID card in hand. Granted, everyone at the site knew me, but it was an extra security precaution. And from what I could tell, they upped security from the last time I was there. Thankfully though they let me in without much incident.

I was directed to Kondraki's office, where I saw him working on his camera. I knocked on the doorway, smiling all the while.

"Knock, knock" I chuckled as he looked up.

His usual scowl turned into a slight smile. "Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes".

I walked in as he got up and, to my surprise, embraced me. I hugged him back, unable to suppress a smile of my own.

"Is it really that time again?" he asked as he let me go.

I nodded, saddened a little. "Nineteen years ago tomorrow I'm afraid".

Kondraki sat back down with his camera. "It seemed like only yesterday Derrick was here, carrying you around on his shoulders. Irritated the living hell outta the O-5s, but your dad was bent on making sure you knew the sites, and the SCPs, well. He was a great guy, your dad".

I sighed. "He was so ready to be an O-5 himself. If anyone deserved it, he did".  
"Definitely. I see you brought his journals".  
"Yeah, speaking of which, I really don't mean to kill the mood or anything, but I'm kinda here on a slightly personal mission. You see, I have questions, and I think only you can answer them 'cause you and my dad were so close".  
"He was like a brother to me. Ask me anything you want, and I'll tell you".  
"Well, it' kinda goes hand in hand with what Dr. Clef-"  
"Oh god not him…what does that damn nutcase want now?"  
"He was wondering if you knew anything about a project my dad was working. He said it was called Project: Lucian".

The look on Kondraki's face was that of pure shock. His eyes were slightly widened and I swear I saw his hands tremble.

"How does he know about that?! What did he tell you?!"  
"N-nothing, Dr. Kondraki. I swear, he just wanted to know what you know…I think".  
"Like hell he's gonna know!" Kondraki took a few calming breaths, "Listen, I'll tell you what I know. It's not much, fair warning, but you have a right to know. It's not safe to talk about it here at the site, so meet me at the house in about an hour, maybe hour and a half. And whatever you do, do not tell either Dr. Clef, or Cool, what I am going to tell you".  
"Why? What's going on?"  
"Look, Clef's shady, a little too shady for my liking. Just promise me that this will stay between us".

I nodded. "I promise".  
"Good. I'll meet you at the house. I gotta go back to my quarters and grab some important stuff".  
"Alright. Got it".

With that, I walked out. Now I was hellbent on finding the truth. Hopefully I'd remember to thank Clef later for sending me on this little mission.

It was about an hour before I heard a knock at the door. I hurried and opened it to see Kondraki in casual clothes with a bag full of what looked like notebooks and a large white binder.

"What's all this?" I asked.  
"Stuff you should've been told about years ago. Might wanna sit down for all this".

We sat down in the living room and Kondraki put the notebooks together and the white binder between us. I looked at it curiously and then at him to ask permission to go through it.

"It's a photo album" he explained, "Special one. I took all the pictures in it".

I opened it and was surprised to find pictures from my parent's wedding! I felt my jaw almost hit the floor. I tried finding this for years, but I never could for the life of me. I put the album in my lap and greedily flipped through it. Kondraki meanwhile sipped on the tea I had just made with a grin on his face.

I asked so many times who everyone was and he was always more than happy to oblige. He even showed me pictures of my mother, who I couldn't remember too well.

"Her name was Eveline, Eveline O'Reilly".  
"Did she know about the Foundation?"  
"I'm sure Derrick told her about some of his patients, but he never told her about the foundation. See, she believed he worked at some kind of mental hospital".

It made sense. Dad couldn't have possibly told her everything.

"How'd she die?" I asked.  
"According to Derrick, your mom got sick shortly after you were born. They think it may have been some kind of cancer. You were only four when she died".  
"And then dad died four years later".

Kondraki put a supportive hand on mine. "No matter what others think, no matter what you believe, it was not your fault, Carson".

I turned the page to see a picture of my dad with another man. He seemed…faintly familiar. He was tall, with raven hair kept nicely cut. His eyes were a dark hazel color and he wore a dark blue tuxedo. His smile was kind, like my mother's, but he didn't look like dad or her.

"Who's this?" I wondered, pointing at the man.  
Kondraki looked the picture over. "Oh…well…it's a long story".  
"Who is he?"  
"When your dad was a younger man, before he married your mom, he adopted a kid".  
"I have a sibling?"  
"Had, but I'll get into that in a little bit. Anyway, it was a boy and Derrick called him Lucian".  
"That name again…"  
"So, did they tell you?"  
"No, but I've heard it in my dreams. Go on, leave no details out".  
"Like you, Lucian grew up around the Foundation. He wanted to be a psychologist like your father, but he was enlisted to a mobile task force instead".  
"Which one?".  
"Can't remember the name it was then at the time, but nowadays it's Alpha One…The Red Right Hand. Your dad wasn't too happy about it. Despite being a soldier, Lucian's heart was in the SCPs themselves. Like your father, Lucian wanted to make their lives better. Almost like he felt he owed them something".  
"I've read dad's journals. He never once mentions Lucian".  
"Huh…when I read 'em he did".

I thought of something. What if the torn pages were ones that mentioned Lucian? I had to tell him.

"When I was going through them the other night, I noticed something. Two journals had pages torn from them. But when I asked Dr. Cool about it-"  
"Don't ask him about shit, he won't tell you. He's an O-5, therefore sworn to secrecy".  
"I knew it! He does know something!"  
"More than something, he knows the half of it I'm sure. In fact, I fought him for two years for you".  
"For me?"  
"Yes you. What man in his right mind wouldn't fight for his god daughter?"  
"Wait what?"  
"They didn't tell you that either…typical. But yeah, when you were born, your parents made me your godfather. If anything happened to your parents or Lucian, I was supposed to take care of you".  
"So…what happened?"

Dr. Kondraki looked somewhat grim. "Dr. Cool…he had something I didn't".

Nothing could prepare me for what he was about to tell me next.

"The O-5s did some scrounging around and they discovered that Cool…he's your mom's brother".

I went wide eyed and again my jaw almost hit the floor. There was no way that could be true…could it? Kondraki explained a little more.

"When Dr. Cool joined the Foundation, he cut ties with his family, as he didn't want them to be targeted by other government foundations or the Chaos Insurgency. When he found out you were his niece, he was just as shocked as you are now. I'm a skeptic, but there's gotta be something behind it, whether it's God or Fate, I have no clue".

I went back to the subject of Lucian, my eyes watering. "What happened to him?"  
"No one's really sure" Kondraki handed me a tissue, "The official report says he went missing in action. Bullshit in my opinion".  
"Why's that?" I asked drying my eyes.

Kondraki handed me the two other notebooks he had. "These were Lucian's. Those detail a total of four years. I haven't read through them, just kinda skimmed over them, noting some of the dates and stuff".  
"Why do you have them?"  
"Your father gave them to me before he died. I think he knew the O-5s would never let you even look at them if something happened".

That would make sense. But why? If he was my brother, I had a right to know about him, right? What did they have to hide? I shook my head, remembering Dr. Clef's mission.

"So, Project Lucian has to do with…my brother?"  
"It's supposedly a classified project, but officially it doesn't even exist. It's not on any Foundation computer. Why? Because it was a personal project and not an official Foundation one".  
"Personal?"  
"Yes" Kondraki nodded, "A project your father was personally undertaking".  
"What did it entail? I mean, what was it about?"  
"I've never read the journals. It was my job just to keep 'em safe. I think Derrick meant for you to read them".  
"Thank you Dr. Kondraki".  
"Hey, it's never an issue. If you got any questions or concerns, you know I'm here".  
"Oh and by the way, Iris is doing great".

Iris and Kondraki were great comrades. Both of them loved photography so they got along personally as well professionally. The good doctor, my godfather, smiled.

"I was wondering about her actually. Thanks, Carson. Tell her I said hi when you get back".  
"I will. But hey why'd she have to be moved?" I asked.  
"We had a breach about three months ago. Lots of D-Class and SCPs got out, it was chaos. Some of the D-Class tried to attack Iris, but thankfully Cool was there to get her out" Kondraki explained, "I tried to assure him Site 17 was safer after the breach, that extra security measures were being taken, but he didn't believe us. With the O-5 Council's approval she was moved to your site".  
"He's awfully protective of her".  
"Because he loves her".

I couldn't help but laugh. Dr. Cool, loving an SCP? The notion would be enough to make a stuffed animal laugh. But when I looked, Kondraki was being entirely serious.

"That's so frikkin' weird" I said, "Cool would never get close to an SCP, much less love one!"  
"You'd be surprised" Kondraki replied, "He saw one like how he sees you some years back".  
"For real?"

He nodded. "When you get back to Site 19, ask Cool about someone named Cadence Revan".  
"Cadence Revan?"  
"He's got his own secrets, and I have mine. But you didn't hear it from me, got it?"

I nodded. "Got it".

Now I was not only curious about what the Foundation knew. But the first person I wanted to talk to was 049. I realized then what I was going to call the Plague Doctor.

Lucian….after my brother.

**Author's note: Dang so much drama in this chapter! And things are gonna take a turn for the dramatic here soon. They're just now getting intense and it's gonna get crazy. Hope you guys liked, please review I appreciate it**


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

I spent the rest of the weekend reading Lucian's two notebooks and visiting my dad's grave. He did write about me, several times. One entry confirmed what Larry and Clef had talked about, meaning that I'd known of the Foundation nearly my entire life. As for how I felt about Lucian personally, I grew to love him through his writings. Granted I couldn't remember much, if anything he wrote about, but I could tell he was a hard working man who cared about his family like dad did.

As I read more, the realized both dad and Lucian invested time into SCP 049. Lucian quite possibly more so than dad.

_2-10-/_

_He requested to see me again. I don't know why the Plague Doctor appears to have some kind of fascination with me, but it's beginning to worry me. Dad tries to dismiss it, like it's nothing. But I can't help but feel something is wrong. It makes me wonder if 049 and Radical Larry are somehow linked. The Plague doctor requests me, while the old man asks for Carson. It just doesn't make sense. _

_What could they possibly want with us? Dad's given Carson an amnestic, blocking her memories of "Uncle Larry". I personally objected to this. If Larry hasn't done anything to hurt her, Carson could've been the perfect link between him and the Foundation. We could've gotten so much information from their interactions, but now all of it's lost. I'd try asking the old man, but interaction with him is strictly forbidden. Which now I'm left wondering: How does Larry keep finding her? If I get the chance, I'll have to ask.  
-L. O'Reilly_

Lucian brought up an interesting point. How did Larry keep finding me? I made a mental note to ask when I got back to Site 19. But now I was even more suspicious of the Plague Doctor. Why didn't he tell me about Lucian if Dr. Cool didn't? All these questions and no answers was rather frustrating. I put the journals aside for the time being as I tried to think of a logical explanation for all this.

And on top of the discovery of Lucian, I had to deal with the revelation that Dr. Cool wasn't just my legal guardian, but apparently my biological uncle. Surely he had to have known about that. I mean c'mon, I looked like my mom but had dad's eyes. If he didn't know, how could he have missed it? And then again if he did know, why keep it a secret?

Then I was angry. Dr. Cool had known about Dr. Kondraki being my godfather, I was sure of it. He had blocked my real guardian out of my life for what seemed to be no reason. The one man who could answer my questions-

A horrible thought came to mind.

Maybe that was WHY he didn't let Kondraki see me. Not for legal purposes or whatever piss poor excuse Cool would give. But because of what Kondraki had known about my family.

And then that thought led to another.

Did Dr. Cool kill my brother?

No. He couldn't. He wouldn't. My guardian was a hard man, but he wasn't a murderer, surely. Anyone he did kill was ultimately for the good of all. I tried to push the thought away, but I couldn't. The thought was repulsive and made me sick. Dr. Cool was ambitious, but definitely not a murderer…

But then again, there were a lot of shady incidents in the past. Dr. Cool was the youngest O-5 council member to date. He hadn't been the first choice of the Council either. But his competition had either disappeared or died in SCP related incidents. This of course roused the suspicion of the O-5 Council, but when confronted all of Dr. Cool's alibis added up. The charges against him were dropped due to lack of evidence. Even so, some, like Kondraki, didn't trust him.

Furthermore, Lucian was a soldier, not a researcher. Surely he was no threat to Dr. Cool's power…

But then I became aware of who could've been!

"Dad…" I thought.

My father was a researcher. Granted not in the same way or same areas that Cool was, but the O-5 Council took a lot of his research seriously. Could Dr. Cool have killed my brother to make my father give up his potential place in the Council? And more importantly, how did 049 play into all of this? What did he know? If he was there when the Chaos Insurgency attacked my dad, why was he there? His angle didn't make any sense…

I went back to Site 19 that Monday. I had it off but I needed to find Dr. Clef. If anything I needed to thank him for this. My only hope was that I wouldn't run into Dr. Cool, if he was even still at the site.

"Ah Carson!"

I turned and let out a sigh of relief. It was Clef. He was grinning ear to ear when he saw my relieved expression. I tried to smile back but there was a lot on my mind.

"Okay spill it" I came out with it, "You knew about Project Lucian, at least that it existed! How?!"  
"Let's take this to my office, Miss O'Reilly. Cool's got eyes and ears all over the place".  
"Does he know?"  
"Nothing official. But he suspects you talked to Kondraki".

I cursed under my breath as I followed Clef back to his office. He closed and locked the door behind us. I had an uneasy feeling about all this. Regardless, I sat down in one of the chairs. Clef, as usual, leaned against his desk.

"You wanna know how I knew about it?" he asked.  
I nodded. "No more secrets. No more lies. I don't need to be told everything, but I need some stretch of truth here".  
"Understandable. Well, I know some things, but not everything. Your father simply asked for my help with his project".  
"Did you know Lucian?"  
Clef nodded. "I did. Smart young man, brilliant really. He loved the Foundation but was far more dedicated to his family than anything else".  
"I take it Cool knew Lucian as well?"  
"Don't see how he couldn't have known him. Lucian was in his mobile task force".  
"So he did kill my brother".  
"Kill your brother? Where in god's name did you get that idea?"  
"Well think about it. Rumor has it that Cool kills all runner ups for his place on the O-5 Council. Maybe he killed Lucian to send dad a message and to keep him silent about any suspicious activity".  
"I swear, Carson, you have one wild imagination. No, Cool did not kill your brother".  
"But he disappeared while under his command".  
"Disappeared, yes, but killed? No. A body was never recovered".  
"He could've hidden it".  
"Doubt it. If he wanted to kill your brother to send your dad a message, your dad would've turned around and reported him. Derrick wouldn't have cared about the consequences. Lucian was his son and he would've found a way to avenge him without even touching Cool had he murdered him. Derrick was a lot of things but stupid enough to have gone after Cool for Lucian's death, no. How far have you gotten in to Lucian's journals?".  
"Not very far. I just started reading them Saturday".  
"Read a little further into the second journal. I think you'll be able to draw your own conclusions about what happened to Lucian. But when you do, tell no one. Not even your homicidal statue friend 'cause god knows he has the biggest mouth".  
"Didn't plan on it".  
"Good. Now what I recommend is reading the journals completely through, at least the second one. They may hold hints about Lucian's disappearance. Do not let anyone associated with O-5 Command get their hands on those notebooks. Protect them with your life if you have to".  
"Got it".  
"After you're done reading them, go to the Plague Doctor. I'm very sure he can clarify everything that Kondraki, Cool, and I can't. I promise…we'll figure this out".  
"I know".  
"That's all I can tell you for now. Good luck Carson".  
"Thanks Dr. Clef…for everything I mean".

He nodded as he unlocked the door and let me out. I knew who I needed to see next, but first I had a lot of reading to do…


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

I spent the next two days unpacking and reading Lucian's journals. From what I read, Lucian never did fully trust the O-5 council. He knew they didn't really care for the SCPs he worked with, nor the ones dad worked on. All they wanted was results. Lucian suspected he was only put MTF Alpha 1 so Dr. Cool, and the rest of the Council, could keep tabs on him and our family.

But Lucian had his own plans.

As Dr. Cool kept tabs on him, Lucian was trying his damnest to keep him away from me and our dad. He had his own reasons for watching our uncle, and it all led back to the Plague Doctor…

_3-15-/_

_Dad says the plague doctor had another "vision" today. That's the fifth one this week. They keep coming, and every time they get more and more vivid in detail. At least, that's what he cares to reveal to dad. As usual, 049 asked to see me afterwards. _

_But I don't want to know. He keeps telling me that dad and Carson are in serious danger. He says there's going to be some kind of betrayal in our family. I don't want to believe it, but every I find myself fearing for the lives of my father and sister. What does SCP 049 know that we don't? We've already lost so much, what more can be taken from us? What more could the Foundation demand of us?  
-L. O'Reilly_

So even Lucian knew the plague doctor knew something. He wrote that the SCP had visions…what did these visions entail? Were they for certain, or only what could've been? And then, as I looked it over, it hit me like a ton of bricks…that damning sentence…

_**That there's going to be some kind of betrayal in our family…**_

Something inside me broke. I dropped the journal on to my bed. No. No, I wouldn't believe it. I couldn't believe it. I knew he would never hurt me that way!

I shook my head as the pieces came together. I shook it harder as I felt my heart break. I couldn't stop the tears as they fell.

"No!" I screamed my denial as I put my hands to my face.

But the evidence was right in front of me. Somehow, the plague doctor had known…

Dr. Cool had murdered my father!

"Why?!" I yelled, "WHY?!"

If the thought of him killing my brother disgusted me, this flat out made me sick. I ran to the bathroom and thankfully managed to throw up in the toilet and nowhere else. I sobbed loudly between bouts of throwing up the few contents of my stomach. Even when I could do it no longer, I just stayed curled up on the bathroom floor.

I couldn't believe it. I was raised by a monster, a murderer. The very person I spent my whole life hunting down was always there with me. Eighteen years…he spent eighteen years of my life lying to me. Why? That was all I could think of. Why did Dr. Cool feel the need to murder my father? What had my dad done to deserve death? Was it because of Project: Lucian? It had to be. He wouldn't kill an innocent man just for power…would he?

I don't know how long I stayed in that bathroom. I just knew I didn't want to come out. I didn't want to face the reality of being truly alone. But I wanted, needed, answers. I forced myself back up and washed my face and mouth.

I got ready for work, a lump in my throat and a hole where my heart once was. The thoughts of revenge wouldn't leave me alone. No, I didn't want to kill him. I wanted him to suffer. But what could I do? I wouldn't be like him, never. I was better than that.

But I would tell him that I knew. If there was a hell, I hoped he would burn in it. I made my way out of my quarters and up to my mentor's office. But there my courage faltered. What if, by some crazy chance, that I was wrong? What if I was right and he would want me dead if he knew that I knew? I lowered my hand before I could knock on the door.

"Did you need something, rabbit?".

Speak of the devil and he would appear, they say. My fist clenched and I turned to face him.

"I need to talk to you" I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking.  
"Whatever Kondraki told you-"  
"No one told me" I interrupted, "I figured it out".  
"Carson…"  
"Why?!" I demanded, "What was my dad's crime?!"  
"It was a mistake" he sighed and closed his brown eyes trying to keep calm, "A terrible mistake that never should've happened".  
"A mistake?! A **MISTAKE?! **You murdered my father!".  
"If you would give me a minute to explain, Carson!"  
"I'll give you five! Starting…now".  
"The O-5 council believed your father had gone insane, or was an agent for the Chaos Insurgency. I was blinded by that same belief".  
"And what did he do to make you believe that?"  
"He helped an SCP to escape".  
"What SCP?"  
"I think you know".  
"SCP 049" I said, "So he was there the night dad died!"  
"It was yes. Your father had this insane thought that the damn plague doctor was your brother".  
"And even you thought he was crazy?"  
"Insane and a traitor…until we got a hold of your father's journals".  
"His journals? They didn't mention-"  
"Because the pages were removed. The Council declared Project: Lucian classified".  
"So they did take the pages out! You lied about that too!"  
"Technically no I didn't. You asked if I removed them. I personally did not".  
"But you knew who did!"  
"Rest assured it was for your own good".  
"And murdering my innocent father...was that for my own good?!"  
"No, no it wasn't. I admit that the Council and I were wrong to do that to you. We should've investigated the situation in its entirety before drawing conclusions like that. That was also a part of the reason we didn't let you go into foster care".  
"And Kondraki…you denied my godfather his right to me!".  
"For reasons I'm sure you already know".

I clenched my fists even harder. "Did you know before or after you killed him?"

"I had assumptions, but I wasn't sure. So no, I didn't actually know until after the deed was done and DNA testing was done".  
"Still" my voice broke, "How could you…for eighteen years…stand there and LIE to me?!"  
"Carson-"  
"No! One last question…what happened to Lucian?!"  
"I don't know".  
"Liar! Liar and a murderer!"  
"Rabbit-" he reached for my arm but I pulled away from him.  
"Don't ever call me that again. I'll find Lucian on my own…without the Foundation's help!" I calmed a little as I felt myself start to go numb, "I won't tell anyone you did this. But you will pay for it. Someday, somehow or other, you will hurt for this. I won't fight for vengeance, but I will say this: If there is a hell Dr. Cool, I hope you burn. For my dad" I looked him in the eyes, "And for Cadence Revan…whoever the hell she was".

He looked like I wounded him. Good. It was the least he deserved for what he did to me…


End file.
